War Games
by Koriat Cyredanthem
Summary: Several years after the war ends, the Spartan IIs who remain have become used to living in a quasi-retired state. Humanity is rebuilding and the Sangheili-Human Alliance is strong. Yet danger still lurks along shipping and travel lanes... Have the Spartans lost their touch? [Humor/Romance/Tragedy! Rated for later scenes and cussing!]
1. The First War Games

_AN: This story is set several years after the end of Halo 4 (and likely 5). To date, humanity and Sangheili have allied themselves (and the Grunts) into the Alliance, and the Kig-Yar are pirates that both sides, the Alliance and the Old Covenant, are trying to exterminate. The Old Covenant is made of the Brutes and Hunters. The engineers and bugs have disappeared – no one knows where, but they're gone gone gone. The Prophets are all either dead thanks to several targeted assassinations or under heavy guard on the Brute homeworld. For this story, though, that shouldn't matter. But now you know._

**Chapter 1: The First War Game**

Thel 'Vadam observed his chosen warriors, clicking his mandibles in satisfaction. Each had been tested in war before and looked forward to the upcoming contest.

There were three Sangheili facing him. Each was armored in the red and gold of the highest of Majors. Two had been his childhood friends, Kalam 'Vadamee and Dakur 'Vadamee. They could have been twins; the same height, with the same dusky brown leathery skin and slit-pupil yellow eyes that struck fear into humans. The only differences were in their jaw length – Dakur had the long, proud mandibles of a noble bloodline, while Kalam's mandibles were shorter and stockier, more crowded with teeth.

Thel had known the third only for half of their lives – they were roughly the same age, Thel guessed – but Ava 'Taham was well-known throughout the fleet. Half-brother to the infamous Usze 'Taham, son of Toha Sumai by another female Sangheili, Ava 'Taham was slightly smaller than his half-brother but more cunning and faster. He preferred the deep purple Assault Harness as his armor, though for this battle he had upgraded to the Major armor – they'd need it, against their opponents.

Across the stadium, Thel knew without looking, his human friend and ally was preparing his own forces. The Demon had agreed to this spectacle both to appease the tensions between Sangheili and humans and to keep everyone in fighting trim.

The scoreboards around the stadium had been specially refitted for the battle. They would display the score for each team. Every opponent removed from the battlefield would count as ten points; disabling hits were five; damaging hits were only one point.

Thel's warriors were armed with Sangheili-style plasma rifles and Carbines, but instead of live ammunition, they would fire a paint-filled substitute. Thel looked forward to seeing how accurate the "paint balls" would be.

Thel looked around the stadium. Most of the audience was human; there were few Sangheili yet on Earth. The seats were packed, however; the chance to see the Spartan-IIs, at least, had drawn a crowd. Humans moved between sections of seating, laughing, yelling, and screaming at each other. There was no hostility, however, and Thel turned around to survey the arena.

The ground was firmly-packed dirt under his hooves. He would have good traction. Several pillars had been erected between him and the opposition, varying widely in width and height. There were a few that he could stand behind; others would require that he crouch or even lie on his stomach. The pillars were spaced so that the crowd could watch everything, which meant it would be difficult to move between them without presenting an opportunity to be shot.

There was even a cave dug into the floor. The inside, Thel guessed, would be narrow and low. A good place to be ambushed. He decided they should avoid it.

The four green-armored Spartan IIs on the other end of the stadium sparkled slightly in the light of Earth's single yellow sun. A moderate example of a star, Sol produced just enough heat and light to keep everything on the planet alive, but would burn the thin skin of the humans if they remained too long outside in it. Thel had met several darker-skinned humans who didn't seem to have this problem, and it made him wonder how the paler skin came to dominate the race.

Across the stadium, the four green soldiers raised their rifles in salute; Thel and his team did the same. The match would start momentarily. Thel was looking forward to beginning.

_~~HALO~~_

John, receiving the reply salute with a slight grin, turned to his siblings. They were eager to get started; all had been feeling the pull of boredom and tranquility slowing their reflexes. Being back in a battle, even a mock-up like this, would be fun. And it would distract the world, for a few days at least, from the grim situation humanity faced.

"Let's kick ass," Kelly laughed, crouching at the edge of their starting square. Fred chuckled deeply over the radio; Linda, armed with a regular rifle instead of a sniper rifle because paint balls were anything but accurate at long distances, shifted and swiped a quick Spartan-smile across her faceplate. John returned it silently.

To honor the first game of the new War Games, Admiral Terrence Hood himself had come out of retirement to set off the starting cannon. The crowd hushed expectantly as he took to the stage in the pulpit overseeing the stadium; John turned with the silence and found the man. The Spartan, from this distance, could barely make out the grey of his hair, though up close he knew it was closer to white now.

The Admiral's wife and children were in the pulpit as well, John knew. He'd greeted them all when they had arrived; Terry, at least, would never had forgiven him if he hadn't. Little Jonathan – born the day after the original Human-Sangheili Alliance had been finalized – had, as per his usual, latched onto the Spartan's armor and refused to let go until the Chief agreed to come over and spend some time working with the boy on his martial arts. That, of course, meant that Lucy, two years older than the five-year-old clinging to John's armor, had to insist on another tea party with the Chief. Then Kade, with all the seriousness of his thirteen years, had asked if the Spartan would help him on a school project. Terry and his wife had laughed at the antics of their children but the weariness in their eyes made it clear to the Spartan that they could use the break, so he had agreed to take charge of all three younglings after the games and give the pair some time to themselves. Now he just needed to make sure it was alright with his siblings, with whom he still lived.

A lot had changed since the end of hostilities. After finally putting down the Covenant Loyalists, defeating the Didact – at the cost of Cortana's life, which still hurt John deeply – and chasing off the remnants of the Jackal and Brute nations, humanity was – finally – returning to peace. They were trying to, at least; snags like having too few bodies, too little space, and too long a wait to train the next generation meant that even super-soldiers like the Spartans found themselves working on crews clearing the debris from space battle-fields, escorting science ships on their quest for terraformable planets, and other small but vital jobs that never seemed to run out.

To add to the difficulties of trying to find homes for everyone who had been displaced during the war, the Sangheili had found out that extended close proximity with humans meant new and strange diseases were starting to cross the species boundary. Thel 'Vadam had caught a variant of the nearly-extinct chickenpox; John and Fred had fallen, in turn, to a Sangheili illness popularly called Scales for the hard, shiny patches of skin that were its main symptom. Kelly and Linda, so far, hadn't caught anything, and nothing had proven deadly. Everyone simply had to build up their immune systems. The humans were clearly faster at it than the Elites, the Spartans fastest of all. It had taken Fred and John a week to kick the illness which had hospitalized nearly half of the base they'd been in at the time, a month after the Sangheili had set up a permanent HQ just next door.

But the Arbiter's endurance had been tested as he willed himself _not_ to itch at the spots along his neck and arms – and under his armor, for all John knew – and had made for several days of limited patience on behalf of the Sangheili leader. That, in turn, had led to a slowing of the rush to figure everything out, which had given everyone a well-deserved – and timely – break from the frantic rebuilding.

That had been two years ago, though; now Thel seemed immune to everything that humans could throw at him, unwittingly or not, though new arrivals from Sanghelios were being treated with vaccines. Few humans made the trip to Sanghelios; not only were they much busier on Earth and around it, but few were willing to visit the entirely alien planet. John was hoping to be sent as protection detail when Earth finally got around to sending over an embassy, though.

Admiral Hood stepped up to the pulpit's microphone and cleared his throat. The speakers boomed and everyone hushed to listen to the idolized man's words.

"Welcome to the very first War Games," Admiral Hood said, pacing his words so that the echo in the stadium didn't render his words insensible. "First of what we hope will be _many_ such tests of prowess between the best of humanity and the best of Sangheili. Now that peace reigns in our galaxy, we turn to pastimes enjoyed by our ancestors like the Olympics and professional sports once again, and to the roster, we now add the War Games. For now, only two teams have agreed to entertain us all with their hard-won skills. The home team for this game is the Demons."

John smirked. The name had been chosen carefully. Since the Spartan-IVs were multiplying quickly, "Spartan" generally referred to the fourth-generation super soldiers now, instead of the IIs. However, "Demons" was a name that had put fear into many an alien species, and it only referred to the green-armored Spartan IIs.

True, there were only four of them left. They were still the Demons, still the strongest, fastest, and meanest soldiers humanity could field. Even with their hair greying – or even going white, like Fred's - John knew his team could fight circles around almost all of the Spartan IVs. It wasn't a point of particular pride, to him; he was, in fact, faintly uncomfortable with the knowledge. When they died – and at this point, no one knew if he and his siblings would enjoy the hundred-odd more years their lifespans could account for or if a new enemy would do them in before then – it would be up the IVs to take their place at the forefront of humanity's defenses.

The four Spartans raised their right arms in salute as the stadium roared with cheers. Their trademark green armor shone in the sun. Out of deference for the soldiers who had sacrificed so much for humanity, no Spartan-IV chose the same green color or even anything close. So the green of the MJOLNIR, tinged with the gold sparkle of shielding, was purely Demon.

"And the visiting team, the Sangheili Phantoms," Hood continued when it had quieted. On their side of the stadium, the Sangheili raised their arms in tribute as well; though there was cheering for them as well, it was less enthusiastic than it had been for the Demons.

"The game will begin on the sound of the cannon," Hood said. Everyone present already had a pamphlet explaining the rules of the game – there weren't many. Medics were standing by in the tunnels leading into the stadium, ready to help anyone who was seriously injured in the battle, but unless the battle devolved into fist fights, it was unlikely that they would be needed.

John picked his target as Hood prepared to sound the cannon; the Spartan would sprint for a close-by half-wall and crouch behind it. Kelly was choosing a target further out into the field, but she was faster – she would probably get there safely. Fred and Linda were going to stick together, as they usually did in training nowadays, and take control of the cave in the middle of the stadium – hopefully.

The cannon boomed through the stadium and all four Demons shot forward. John saw Thel and his Sangheili do the same, though they were slightly slower; he didn't bother trying to hit them. The paintballs had an effective range of about ten meters; after that, they would be almost useless. It was an old technology, but no one wanted to play without their armor, and the usual numbing rounds wouldn't work without seriously tampering with everyone's armor, which no one was willing to do.

John slid to one knee behind the half-wall, peering over the top. Thel was the closest target, standing twenty meters away behind a tall pillar. Dakur and Kalam were apparently going to challenge Fred and Linda for the cave, while Ava was moving towards Kelly.

Thel peeked around his cover; John raised his rifle and fired, though the Elite's faceplate was barely showing. The paintball swung wide, but the Arbiter ducked back quickly. John took advantage of his friend's movement to advance, jigging to the right to keep from accidentally running into either Ava or Kelly. He could hear the sharp crack of Linda and Fred firing – they'd engaged for the cave, then.

John knelt behind another half-wall, near the side, and looked around it at the pillar. Thel shot off a pair of rounds; the Spartan pulled his head back in before the Arbiter could recalibrate his aim for the paint balls' spin.

Then, fluidly, John rose to his feet, turning shoulder-on to Thel and one-handing his rifle. It definitely _looked_ cool, but his aim was terrible as a result, and the Arbiter quickly ducked back behind his pillar.

Despite knowing that nothing on the battlefield could truly hurt him, John felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was a heady drug; he laughed and jumped over his covering wall, dashing behind a full-height pillar.

"I'm out," Linda said over the radio. John glanced over; the Spartan was walking off the field with Dakur, both splashed liberally with paint balls, enough that they had judged themselves "killed."

"Kamikaze," Fred huffed over the radio. That told John that Linda had stormed the Sangheili position, sacrificing herself to remove at least one of their opponents. "Kalam's injured – not sure how, yet. He hasn't moved and I don't want to expose myself."

"Where are you?" Kelly asked. "Ava's playing chicken and I'm about done here."

"In the cave, on our side. He could flank me at this point. If you lure Ava down here, I can take him out."

"I've got Thel," John said into the radio. He rolled slightly, peeking around the pillar, but he couldn't see the Arbiter.

"We figured you would," Kelly laughed. "I'm coming your way, Fred. ETA ten seconds."

Fred pitched his voice low, silkily. "Come to me, Kelly," he purred. Kelly snorted into the radio – she would have words with the playful Spartan when this was over.

John refocused on his task. He couldn't spot the Arbiter when looking out from his pillar. The audience wasn't giving him any help; they were probably shouting _something_ he could use, at least a few of them, but the noise devolved into a near-constant roar.

"Ah! Son of a bitch!" Kelly cursed, drawing John's attention. "I'm out." She huffed. "Kalam was waiting in an ambush. He _knew_ I would lure Ava in to Fred."

"They know us well," John reminded his team. "You're dead, Kelly, so technically we shouldn't know about Kalam ambushing you." He and Fred were left against three Elites, one of them the Arbiter. He glanced over; Kelly was scrubbing at her faceplate clear as she tried to clear the battlefield and walked _right_ into a pillar.

"Son of a bitch."

John chuckled, shaking his head. They were all having far too much fun – they'd forgotten that this was actually a mock-battle, and that there were people watching. They were behaving like children.

"Well, since we're just making fools out of ourselves, John, care to go out with a bang?" Fred drawled. "And, Kelly, darling, you're about to run into another pillar. To the left." Kelly moved to her left and hit the pillar. Fred sniggered. "My left, dear."

"I'll show you left when you get out of there," Kelly growled. Linda hurried back onto the battlefield and escorted her sister out of the maze of pillars, using a cloth to clear Kelly's faceplate.

John cleared his throat. "What did you have in mind?" he asked Fred, already moving towards his brother's position. He darted quickly between pillars. Now the Spartans were outnumbered, and his blood was singing in anticipation.

Someone shot at him a few times, but nothing impacted; John slid into the cave and Fred grabbed his wrist, pulling him down behind a concrete boulder. They hunkered, hip to hip, each facing one of the entrances of the cave.

"Now we're trapped," John noted calmly.

"And they can either come in after us – which would be suicide – or they can wait for us to come out."

"Which would be suicide for us."

"Have some faith, brother mine," Fred scolded. "They don't know which side we'll come out. Where would you be, knowing that?"

"On top of the system so I could watch both ends. But Thel's got three Sangheili to work with."

Fred nodded. "One at each end, and one in the middle to go help whoever ends up catching the rabbit." John tilted his head – it would make sense.

"So what's your plan?" he asked suspiciously.

"Collapse the cave."

"That's nice. Do you have a grenade? Or were you planning on pulling it down on top of us?"

"You're getting sarcastic, John."

"You're being mysterious, Fred. We're running out of time."

"This ceiling isn't all that thick. I figure we can bring it down by weakening a few key pillars." He pointed to the rock pillars that were holding up the cave. "Then we'll have to break the last one from the lip of the cave and get the hell outta Dodge before it all comes crashing down."

"Alright. I'll take the left."

"Just be careful. I _don't_ want it all coming down on us, 'cause then they'd win, and we're not supposed to lose here."

John snorted and slung his rifle. He lifted a rock and crossed the cave. A few well-placed blows brought down the first pillar; he moved on to the second. When he had cleared five, the ceiling started buckling.

"I think that's it!" Fred yelled, already darting towards the western opening. John followed him – if nothing else, they could surprise the Sangheili waiting on that side – and side-armed his rock back into the cave, bouncing it off of an already-stressed pillar. The rock column broke and the entire cave collapsed.

Fred laughed, sprinting out of the chaos. John was on his heels and they barely cleared the destruction.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw a flash of red armor and turned, firing automatically. He caught the Sangheili – it had to be Kalam – in the chest, and felt the impact of a paint ball on his right arm. The armor had been tinkered with so they could at least feel the impact. He switched gun hands – his right arm was "disabled" now – and turned, protecting Fred's back.

Kalam submitted to his defeat, though, and raised his rifle in salute. The Sangheili thrashing in the ruins of the cave system was Thel. That left only Ava on the field, facing two Demons. The odds had turned.

Kalam helped the Arbiter extract himself from waist-deep dirt and they trooped off the battlefield. John couldn't spot Ava and crouched behind a half-wall with Fred, peering over the top.

"Alright, that was my shining moment. Time for you to shine, Demon." Fred smacked John on the shoulder, a grin in his voice.

"You're way too cheerful," John scolded. "This is supposed to be a mock battle."

"This is supposed to give people something to concentrate on other than rebuilding their homes, families, and lives," Fred replied seriously. "Really, John, did you think they'd come here if it was just to see a battle? They've seen battles. Most of them have probably been in one – or got displaced by one. They came here to see _us_ play around with the Sangheili."

John glanced at his brother, quietly shocked. "It's still a mock battle."

"John, if we could have convinced the Sangheili to play soccer or football or even rugby, _that's_ what we'd be doing right now, instead of a mock battle."

John suddenly had a flash-vision of the Arbiter trying to kick a soccer ball with his hooves. "Maybe we still can…" he mused quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing, Fred. Let's get Ava."

"Alright. Remember, we're not here to dominate, we're here to be actors."

"They're looking for a play, not a battle," John agreed, looking up into the stands. "Then why not give them both?"

"Whatcha got in mind, Chief?"

John frowned. He wasn't exactly creative – he could tactically analyze a situation with the best of his commanders, but he wasn't one for inventing historical attacks. If anyone could have heard his thoughts, though, they would have laughed themselves sick. The Spartan Jump, the Bomb Planter, the Frisbee of Death, the Thrown Shield – those were all common-use names for some of the maneuvers that had been used by the Chief himself that few could replicate.

"I'm down an arm," the Chief mused, wiggling his right hand. Fred nodded. "I can lure him into the open, you can take him down."

"An ambush on the ambusher? I like it. Not your most creative plan, but I think it'll work."

"Well, if I'd known I was supposed to be _creative_…" John bumped shoulders with Fred and then stood, leaving his rifle with his brother. He sprinted between pillars, looking for a flash of gold and red armor.

He found Ava on the other side of the arena. The Sangheili was untouched, his armor only slightly dusty from the collapse of the cave. John slid into the pillar the Sangheili was hiding behind. He heard Ava roar on the other side.

_Time to run_, John thought to himself. He took off, jigging right and left as he ran. He could hear Ava following and turned several tight corners. When he was sure the Sangheili couldn't see him, the Chief ducked behind a wall, crouching on one knee. The dust of his arrival formed a thin screen; Ava pounded past, not even glancing into the swirling dust to his left.

John leapt back up and the audience's roaring audibly increased in pitch and volume both. It alerted Ava to a change, and the Sangheili ducked back into cover. John quickly climbed a tall pillar, knowing the Sangheili would not think to look up; he looked down on Ava's helmet and then clicked his radio signal.

Fred's voice, over the radio, sounded amused. "You look like a giant, green robotic monkey, John," he commented. "Then again, so do I…"

John looked across the battlefield and found that Fred had had the same idea. They were nearly eye-level but fifty meters apart. Fred had hunkered down so that only his helmet peeked over the top of his pillar.

Below John, Ava was on the move again. He knew that staying still would mean "death" and was unconsciously moving towards Fred.

"I wish you'd taken your rifle," Fred murmured as they waited patiently for Ava to step into the clearing between the pair. "Then we could ambush him from both sides."

"When he's in position, throw it to me," John suggested.

"You _are_ enjoying this."

"Very much so." John checked Ava's progress. "He's going the wrong way."

"Herding him back in." Fred ducked further behind his pillar and then fired; the bullets hit the dirt in front of the Sangheili, who turned – thinking the attack had come from someone behind a pillar in front of him, clearly – back towards the clearing the Spartans waited above.

"Coming in hot," Fred chuckled. "Ready?"

"Green," John replied, gathering himself. Ava didn't cross into the clearing, at least not immediately, but the pair of green-armored Demons were more than patient enough to wait. Like a deer testing the security of a meadow, Ava looked warily around, walking carefully and keeping his rifle to his shoulder.

"Now?" Fred asked lazily.

"Now," John confirmed. He jumped into clear space, pushing off of the pillar with his legs; Fred did the same and, mid-motion, hurled a rifle at his brother. John caught it in his left hand and both Spartans landed with identical thumps on either side of Ava. In perfect unison, they dropped to one knee and opened fire. The Sangheili roared in surprise as the paint immediately turned him a light green.

John slung his rifle and stood; Ava was _clearly_ "dead" as almost his full torso was painted. Fred did the same, grinning. The crowd cheered wildly.

"Nice moves, boys," Kelly laughed, coming back onto the field. The other combatants followed her and they all traded handshakes; the Arbiter handed Ava an already-stained rag, which he used to clean up the worst of the paint mess.

"Well played, Demon," Thel said, chuckling deep in his throat and shaking John's hand.

"And you, Arbiter," John replied, grinning. "I look forward to another match."

"As do I."

They lined back up into their teams as Lord Hood stood back up to end the ceremony. He congratulated the winners and praised the athleticism and teamwork – carefully, John noted, the former admiral did _not_ mention traits that were solely used in war, like handling rifles and confusing the enemy – of both groups. There would be more War Games, he assured the audience, who were slightly disheartened by the speed with which the match had concluded, and larger teams next time, and a larger arena. This had been a prototype.

"Where next, O Mighty Chief?" Kelly asked when the former admiral had finished speaking and dismissed the Spartans and Sangheili. She slung an arm around her brother's shoulders, having to stretch upward slightly to do it.

"I have to see Terry and the kids," John replied, handing a field aide his modified rifle.

"Another tea party?" Kelly guessed, sniggering.

"Lucy can't wait to show you her makeup skills," John replied blandly.

"Touché," Kelly laughed.

"They'll be coming over tonight."

"Does that mean I have to clean up the house?"

"At least," John told her, mock-sternly.

The Spartan's house, situated on a base though it was, was the most civilian thing they owned, but it still fit the Spartan lifestyle. They had each had a private room, originally, but years of separation and the need to be close meant they all bunked together in one of the bedrooms.

Their beds were clean, soldier-like cots, which they were most comfortable on. Each had a dresser filled with fatigues, though each was also required to keep their dress uniform and at least one change of civilian clothing on hand at all times. They hung their dress uniforms in the room's closet.

One of the other rooms had been devoted to studying and leisurely activities such as reading. It was filled with terminals and holoscreens and comfortable chairs. Another room was filled with training equipment, and the basement had been converted to a half-length rifle range. They tested a lot of weapons down there, including ones they technically weren't supposed to have.

Another room was devoted to "public space" – in most homes, it would be a living room, but the Spartans referred to it as the parlor. It was where they entertained their rare guest, playing games amongst themselves or with visitors, and watched nightly news casts of the rebuilding process.

The living room abutted the kitchen, which was small but decently stocked. Linda had found a new hobby in cooking and would spend hours every day trying out new recipes. She enjoyed, especially, making fresh foods into delicious foods, which her siblings teased were even starting to look edible after months of tinkering and practice. She did all the cooking for them, and John knew that, without their vigorous daily training routines, they would have all gained fat weight within the last few years of leisure, especially the past couple of months after Linda discovered the wonder of cakes and pastries.

Fred, on the other hand, had found a secret passion in writing – poetry, stories, memoirs, diary entries, it didn't matter what it was so long as he could write it. Several of his works had been published under a pseudonym, F. K. Smith, to news sites and even several magazines. His subjects ranged from light-hearted contemplation of household chores to serious tactical evaluations of battles he'd been in. No one in the world except the trio of Spartans and Sylvia, the AI who encrypted Fred's works so that he could publish them anonymously, knew that F. K. Smith had actually fought in most of the battle he discussed.

Kelly was still convinced that she could improve her speed and enjoyed learning about and then tinkering with their armor. She was becoming quite the engineer; they could all repair their armor to a certain extent, but she could now practically build it from scratch. She often tested her newest innovation in the basement rifle range so no one could be injured by a malfunction. Most of her inventions didn't work out, but she never grew tired of failure.

John himself spent his down time now reading science fiction and fantasy novels, mostly written before the war – once the war started, after all, few people were paying attention to fantasy worlds because the call of their own was so overwhelming – or visiting various friends. Terry Hood and his family, especially, had become used to seeing the Spartan once a week, and John had unwittingly taken on the status of "babysitter" years ago. Jonathan, Lucy, and Kade had adopted the Spartan as a big brother, which suited everyone.


	2. Sleepover at the Spartans' House

**Chapter 2: Sleepover at the Spartans' House**

Linda came with him to see the admiral and his family. Jonathan immediately latched onto John's armor, climbing up to the man's shoulder; though small for his age, the boy was exceptionally agile, to the extent that John considered teaching him acrobatics and how to tumble. The boy's blue eyes were a twin to John's own, when the Spartan had been that age, though no one but his fellow Spartans knew it, and they never mentioned the similarity.

"John, John, you were so cool!" he squealed, giggling and pulling the big man's helmet off – John unlatched it from the inside himself, knowing the boy wouldn't give up until he had the thing.

Jonathan plopped it on over his tiny head, ignoring the sweat that still coated the inside. "Look, Mom, I'm John!" he shrieked from inside the helmet. His dirty-blonde hair stuck out from under the helmet – he disliked cutting it and so it ran down the center of his back – and gave lie to the disguise.

"You imp," John chuckled, running his hand through his sweat-slicked greying hair.

Lucy tapped politely on Linda's armor, as high as she could reach; the giant woman knelt so they were a little closer, though the girl still had to tip her head upwards slightly. "Yes, Lucy?" Linda asked gently.

"You were cooler," the seven-year-old whispered loudly, grinning widely enough to show off her latest loose tooth, which she wiggled incessantly when not speaking. She tossed her head playfully; unlike her five-year-old brother, she wore her blonde hair shorn nearly to the scalp, and hated when it grew out long enough to brush her ears.

All four adults in hearing range chuckled; Jonathan, hearing John laugh at something, pulled the helmet off and nearly dropped it; John caught it quickly. "What's so funny?" Jonathan demanded. He hated be left out of anything.

"Lucy thinks Linda was cooler than me," John replied, tucking his helmet under one arm.

"Nuh uh!" Jonathan shrieked, making John winced slightly as the sound pounded on his eardrums. "Take that back, booger-breath!" He tried to jump at Lucy, who ducked behind Linda; John caught the boy around the middle and tucked him under one arm both to keep him from attacking his sister and from destroying the Spartan's eardrums.

"Now, Jonathan, you know we don't call names," Wendy, Terry's wife, scolded, frowning at the boy. "Apologize to your sister."

"Only when she apologizes to John!" Jonathan yelled back defiantly. Both Spartans wished they could close their ears.

"Jonathan," John said warningly, setting the boy down and crouching. "Lucy said nothing that insulted _me_. You, however, insulted _her_."

"She said you weren't cool," Jonathan muttered, so quietly that now John had to concentrate to hear him.

"She said she liked Linda better," John replied. He chose to interpret it that way, anyway; Lucy was the sweetest kid and never disliked anybody. "That doesn't mean she doesn't like me, right, Lucy?" He turned slightly; Lucy leaned out from behind Linda's protective bulk.

"Uh huh," Lucy replied, nodding. "But you're a guy and we girls gotta stick together, right, Linda?" She looked up with hero-worship in her eyes; Linda smiled gently and patted the girl. Lucy's brown eyes lit up.

"We've all got to stick together, Lucy," Linda replied. "John's my brother; I don't love him any less 'cause he's a guy."

"Even if I deserve it sometimes," John agreed, grinning. Linda smirked in reply, then picked Lucy up and stood. John turned back to Jonathan, who watched the exchange sullenly. "Now, can you apologize to Lucy?" he asked quietly.

"Sorry, Lucy," Jonathan said. He knew better than to mutter it; if he did, John would wait patiently for him to repeat himself, louder, and no one would go anywhere until he did.

"Lucy, what do you say?" Linda asked the girl.

"I forgive you," Lucy replied, first to Linda – to make sure she was right - and then to Jonathan.

"And what did we learn from this?" John asked he hoisted the boy back onto his shoulders, standing again.

"That calling Lucy booger-breath isn't nice," Jonathan replied, propping his elbows on the Spartan's head. "But I still think you're cooler."

"I thought you adored Kelly," John said, clipping his helmet to his armor so he could use both hands. Jonathan could hang on but the toddler had an annoying habit of trying to use John as a springboard if the boy saw something interesting, and if the Spartan didn't catch him, he could seriously injure himself.

"She's a girl," Jonathan replied. John could imagine him scrunching up his face. "Girls got cooties."

"You're too young for cooties," Wendy snorted. "Besides, _I'm_ a girl."

"Nuh uh, you're a Mommy."

All four adults laughed again. "I'm not sure whether to be offended or not," Wendy giggled, leaning into her husband.

"Kade, do you have all your supplies?" John asked, looking at the thirteen-year-old. The boy nodded, hoisting a backpack over his shoulder. The Spartan looked at the former admiral and his wife. "Then with your permission, sir," he said playfully, "we'll take the POWs."

"Hey!" Jonathan protested.

"You heard the man," Terry chuckled. "Behave, kids – or John has my express permission to run you around the fields." All three children groaned; John chuckled. "John, we'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for taking them."

"Anytime, sir." John nodded in farewell and headed for the Spartan's Pelican. Linda carried Lucy and the girl's duffle, filled with her things, while John kept an eye on the two boys.

"I'm hungry," Jonathan whined.

"When we get to the house, we'll have dinner," Linda promised. They skirted around the edge of the civilian crowd, trying not to be noticed. The three kids, though, made enough noise that people turned to look, but no one tried to mob them, fortunately. Kelly and Fred must have taken care of the crowd.

"John?" Kade asked, sticking close to the man's hip.

"Yes, Kade?" John asked.

"Can we help you with the armor tonight?"

John smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "We'll see," he temporized.

"You never let us play with your armor."

"That's because it's very expensive."

"You tumble with Sangheili in it," Jonathan pointed out. "What could _we_ do to it?"

"It's not what you could do to it, Jonathan, it's what _it_ could do to _you_. Remember how we have to be careful about where we walk?"

Kade nodded. "Because, in the armor, you weigh over a ton."

"Ouch, no," Linda protested. "We're not _that_ fat, kiddo."

Kade smiled slightly in apology before turning back to John. "So you're afraid it'll hurt us?"

John nodded slightly. "Remember what we told you about how we move faster than anyone else?" he asked. Kade nodded. "We need to be stronger and faster than the average human to keep up with the armor – otherwise, it would really hurt us. I don't want you to pick something up and drop it on your foot."

"Can we help clean it, then? When it's on the rack?"

"Once your school work is done, if it's not your bedtime," John promised.

"Linda?" Lucy asked, squirming to be let down and walk herself. "No one believes me in school when I tell them I know you," Lucy murmured. "And that you're awesome and cool and fun."

Linda and John exchanged glances. Those were words they'd never had applied to them before making friends with Terry's children, and it still amused all four Spartans. "Well, Lucy, not many people know us outside our armor."

"But you're just people."

"You know that, and I know that, so what does it matter what other people think?"

"Because they call me a liar. I'm not a liar."

"Well, chica, I can't really suggest how to handle that. I'd just beat them up, but you can't do that, alright?" Lucy giggled and nodded. "Your dad would hang me by my toes if I suggested you beat up your classmates."

"So stop talking about it," John chuckled. They came around the backside of the arena where the Pelican was waiting. Jonathan launched himself from John's shoulders; the Spartan caught him and put him gently on the ground, then took Kade's backpack. Lucy and Jonathan raced to the waiting pair of Spartans, shrieking happily to see Kelly and Fred. Kade paced after them solemnly.

Linda and John followed at a more sedate pace. "You know, I don't want to be a mom, but having kids whenever I want them and not when I don't? I like that." Linda grinned, glancing at John.

"Yeah," John agreed, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think any of us would be sane if we had to be with them day and night for more than a week."

"We could handle them a week."

"_Without_ trussing them up and sticking them in a soundproof chamber for a while?"

"Oh, well, when you put it _that_ way…" Linda chuckled as they reached Kelly and Fred. Fred had Jonathan by the ankle, holding him upside down. The boy was shrieking in laughter, clawing at the Spartan's glove. Kelly, meanwhile, was exchanging greetings with Kade as Lucy danced around everyone.

"Do I get to drive?" Lucy demanded, dashing into the Pelican.

"No, Lucy," Linda sighed, going after her.

"John, help!" Jonathan called, seeing his hero, still giggling. Fred carried the squirming toddler into the Pelican and strapped him into a seat before he could try to get into the cockpit. Kade followed, leaving Kelly and John to take up the rear. Linda closed the Pelican hatch and Kelly helped the thirteen-year-old strap into a Pelican harness while Fred and John locked into their own restraints. Lucy came out of the cockpit pouting – clearly Linda wasn't going to let her fly, or even sit on her lap while the Spartan flew – and Kelly strapped the girl in, too. Then she joined her brothers in the center of the Pelican's cargo bay and locked her own harness.

"Everyone ready?" Linda asked over the comm unit.

"Ready," John replied. The three children were calmer now; they knew better than to try to squirm around in their harnesses, not that Kade would ever do so.

It was a quick hop – only fifteen minutes' flight – to the base where the Spartans lived. Linda put them down expertly and opened the hatch once the Pelican was completely still; the three Spartans got out of their harnesses and released the children.

The soldiers on the base were well-used to the three children and didn't stare as the group left the airfield and walked towards the Spartan's home. Jonathan and Lucy raced up to a few of the pilots they knew, exchanging enthusiastic greetings before returning to the Spartans.

They walked into the house and John set the children's bags in the living room. All of the floors of this house were specially reinforced so the team could walk around in their armor, but in the last few years, they'd gotten used to being out of it.

"Alright, kids, you know the drill," John told the three children. Jonathan and Lucy shrieked in delight and dashed down into the basement. Even Kade seemed excited, though he controlled it carefully, and followed at a trot. The four Spartans gave them time to get down the stairs and then descended themselves. Navigating the steeper stairs was difficult to do in full armor.

All three children knew better than to touch any of the weapons on the walls, and they stood a few meters from the four racks, now empty, and away from the base of the stairs just in case one of the big soldiers tripped and fell down them. It hadn't happened yet, but John didn't want to risk squashing one of Terry's kids.

The kids watched – Jonathan and Lucy giggling to themselves and each other, Kade silently with an intensity in his eyes – as the four Spartans quickly stripped off their armor. They wore the black bodysuits underneath, over which they would put on fatigues after carefully racking the MJOLNIR and showering.

Then they locked the racks and Linda stayed with the kids while the other three took turns showering. They regrouped back upstairs. Linda disappeared into the kitchen to prepare dinner while Kelly and Fred sat Lucy and Kade down to help them with their homework – and keep them on task. That left John to figure out something to do with little Jonathan, hopefully to run off some of the boy's energy.

"Jonathan," he said, crouching down, "what would you like to do tonight before dinner?"

Jonathan thought, scrunching up his nose. "Can we play fetch outside?" he asked finally.

"Alright," John agreed. He motioned for the child to put his shoes back on and did the same; they trooped out the back door into the small forest – a glade, really – that abutted against the Spartan's house.

John whistled high and the pack of dogs – owned by various soldiers around the base – came running. They knew this game well, and alerted by the whistle and dog barking, several soldiers also came to watch.

John sat down in the grass and Jonathan stood next to them. "Go get sticks!" Jonathan ordered the dogs; several of the smarter ones bolted into the forest. They came back quickly with sticks of various sizes. John took several that were too heavy for the three-year-old to throw.

"Ready when you are," Jonathan said, grinning.

"Three o'clock," John replied; the boy pulled back his arm and threw, just a shade off of the target. Most of the pack chased after the stick, though it only went a few meters, and snarled and barked playfully at each other as they fought over the honor of bringing back to the humans.

"Eleven." The boy threw again, and this time his aim was better. One or two dogs chased down the stick and trotted back towards them as John gave the next direction. He kept it between ten and three, into the forest and away from the house and its windows. The boy and the dogs enjoyed themselves immensely.

After fifteen or so throws, Jonathan huffed and sat down. "I'm tired," he told John; the Spartan stood and Jonathan now called out the directions. The sticks the Spartan threw were heavier than those the boy did, but they still sailed much farther – the dogs generally managed to return only one in three.

After a dozen such throws, the dogs started lying down and gnawing on the sticks rather than bringing them back, which was their way of saying, "we're tired." John sat down again, crossing his legs, and a friendly lab came over and plopped himself in the Spartan's lap. John chuckled and scratched the dog – her name was Sparky – behind the ears.

Another dog, smaller, licked Jonathan's face and panted at the boy; Jonathan giggled and hugged the dog tight around the neck.

"Gently, Jonathan," John reminded the boy. "You're getting big enough to hurt the dogs now."

"Sorry, Muskrat," Jonathan said to the dog, patting her on the head. The dog's real name was "Bitchy," but no one told the boy that, and he'd named her Muskrat while John had been trying to come up with a good alternative upon first introducing the dogs to the then-two-year-old.

Several of the soldiers, seeing the game over, came into the dog-littered lawn and sat with the Spartan and boy.

"How'd the game go?" Private McDufferson asked as his dog climbed into his lap. He wasn't as big as the Spartan, so the lab – the most common breed on the base – only managed to fit about half of his long form onto the soldier's lap.

"It went well," John replied, smiling slightly. "We won."

"Well, duh," another soldier, Private "Dusky" Wrangler, chuckled. "But how'd you beat them? We were drilling and didn't get to see the action."

Jonathan took it upon himself to tell the tale, running around wildly as he played the parts of each Spartan and Sangheili in turn. The soldiers laughed with him, encouraging him on; at the end of the tale, a few got up and chased the boy for a while, roaring in a credible Sangheili imitation.

Private Daniels finally caught the boy and tickled him into submission until Jonathan was screaming in laughter and nearly crying with the force of it. John "saved" him from the "evil Private Daniels" after a few minutes.

"So, tyke, are ya here for the night?" Private "Killjoy" Masters asked.

"Yeah," Jonathan answered, still catching his breath as he sat in John's lap where Daniels could get him again. "Mom and Dad want some alone time."

The soldiers grinned saucily and wiggled eyebrows at each other but made no lewd comments, for which John was glad. He certainly wasn't going to explain the facts of life to Jonathan – not that the boy'd be ready for years to hear them, and according to Wendy, he'd always be her baby.

"Cool," McDufferson replied. "Well, we'd better get to the mess if we want some grub." He stood and yawned. "Then I think it's bed time for me. Mark me, little dude, sleep all you can _now_, 'cause someday things're gonna keep ya up and ye'll miss the sleep." He waggled a finger at Jonathan, who giggled as John stood and threw the boy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, gently.

"Have a good night," the soldiers called, taking their dogs. Jonathan yelled back and John waved with one hand, the other keeping the boy firmly trapped. They went back into the house; dusk was starting to fall outside, and though the chilly autumn weather didn't bother John, Jonathan was started to shiver despite so much activity keeping him warm.

"Hey John?" Jonathan asked as the Spartan carefully navigated the narrow doorframe.

"Yes?" John replied.

"Can I stay up late tonight? I'm not tired, at all, and tomorrow's Saturday and… And… And I wanna," he finished.

"I promised your dad you'd get your sleep tonight."

"We can sleep in!"

"Not on a base you can't," John chuckled. "We're up with the dawn, Jonathan – we'll let you sleep past that, but not much longer than it."

"Why?"

"Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," John replied, quoting an age-old proverb.

"More like makes a man boring," Jonathan grumped, sighing. John chuckled and dropped the child gently onto the couch. Kade and Lucy were still working on their homework, but they were almost finished. John left the three-year-old with an "assignment" of his own – to read through a full page of a child-friendly newspaper the Spartans kept around to entertain the children when they visited – and strode into the kitchen.

"Need any help?" he asked Linda, already moving towards the cupboard that held their dishes.

"If you could set the table," Linda replied, not looking up from where she was chopping up a pile of fresh vegetables, "that would be great. How'd fetch go?"

"Do you ever get the feeling we all act like old married couples – like some sort of married foursome?" John replied, chuckling.

Linda snorted and put on her very best housewife voice. "Hi, honey, how was work?" she joked.

John snickered and quickly set out bowls and plates for everyone, extending the table to fit all seven of them around it. He poured water for everyone, put out napkins and silverware, and then wandered over to Linda's side of the kitchen.

"So, what's for dinner?" he asked, leaning over the smaller woman.

"John!" she protested, laughing. "We're having lasagna, green beans, and fruit compote for dessert. Hey!" John grabbed a green bean and popped it in his mouth, jumping back as Linda swung an elbow at him.

"Go on, out of the kitchen," she ordered, pointing towards the living room. "You're banished until dinner's ready." She grinned and shook her head as John meekly – but with a grin as well – left the kitchen.

"And that, children, is why you don't mess with Linda in the kitchen," Kelly was saying as John came in. She and Fred smirked at the Spartan and all three kids giggled.

"Point," John conceded, pulling his hand from behind his back and munching on a couple of crisp green beans.

"John! Did you take green beans?!" Linda yelled then from the kitchen, clearly having noticed a few missing.

"No," John replied, grinning and holding a finger to his lips to keep the children from ratting him out. All three giggled, even Kade. He quickly ate the evidence and then had Jonathan read aloud to him to improve the boy's reading ability. Fred and Kelly continued helping the older children with their homework and then they played several math games.

It was truly dark outside when Linda called everyone into the dining room for dinner. They arranged themselves around the table – Linda closest to the kitchen, with Lucy between her and Freda and Kelly on her left side. Kade sat between Kelly and John, while Jonathan sat between John and Fred.

John helped Jonathan serve himself, holding the hot dish steady as the boy insisted on scooping out his own serving of lasagna and managing, with a little help from Fred, to get it on the plate. They passed the food quickly; everyone was hungry and it was a tradition in the household that no one ate until everyone was served.

Once the plates had been passed, the three children bowed their heads in silent prayer – Terry and Wendy were raising them to be faithful but didn't specify which god or gods they had to pray to – and the four Spartans copied them respectfully, though the four didn't pray.

"Okay, we can eat now," Lucy said bossily, raising her head and picking up her fork and knife. Everyone dug in, complimenting Linda as the food was, as always, delicious. The three children accounted for half of a pan of lasagna; the four Spartans cleared the rest of that pan and the other one. Everyone had green beans as well.

They made polite dinner conversation – everyone asked about Kade and Lucy's schooling and listened to Jonathan talk about his latest interest, ancient rodents. When prodded, the four Spartans related the War Games from their point of view, explaining patiently why they'd done what they did. Jonathan enjoyed the tales because they involved action; Lucy was starting to grasp the concepts of maneuver and movement and fires while Kade asked most of the questions about why they'd done _this_ instead of _that_.

Once everyone was finished with dinner, Kelly and John cleared the table and John washed the dishes while the others went out to the living room to play a couple of quiet games. Lucy played with Kelly's shoulder-length blue hair, the Spartan female lying on her stomach with the child sitting on her shoulders. Lucy enjoyed brushing the hair out – especially since it wasn't a "natural" color – and Kelly let her do it as long as she recited things she had to memorize for school, like her ABCs or, more recently, multiplication tables.

"Four times six is twen-ty-four," Lucy chanted, brushing the Spartan's hair to a rhythm. "Five times six is thir-ty. Six times six is… thir-ty-six! Seven times six is… Is…" She frowned, her hands still working while she tried to count in her head. "Linda, what's seven times six?"

"Nuh uh, imp, count it out," Linda scolded, grinning slightly.

"Add six to thirty-six," Kelly suggested.

"Um… Forty-two!"

"Very good," Kelly chuckled.

Kade, meanwhile, was explaining to Fred the importance of the World Wars, going through them chronologically. He had an assignment to give a presentation on them that had to be ten minutes long, so Linda held Jonathan on her lap and sat on the couch with Fred, pretending to be Kade's audience.

"And the Second World War was the bloodiest war fought by mankind at its time," Kade said, standing absolutely still. He froze up when speaking in front of crowds, even when only three people made up his audience. "It was supposed to be the war to end all wars, but it didn't turn out that way. Between 1939 and 1945, the Axis – including Nazi Germany, Japan, and Italy – fought against the Allies – including the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, China, France, Poland, and eventually the United States of North America as well as other small players – to try to take over the world. Nazi Germany led the Axis, and where it conquered, millions of Jewish people and thousands of homosexual people, handicapped people, and criminals died in concentration camps, usually through being gassed, which is when people are put into a big chamber and suffocated. Fifty-eight percent of the casualties were Allied civilians, twenty-five percent were Allied military, thirteen percent were Axis military, and four percent were Axis Civilians. The total death toll was seventy-five million, and most of the civilians died of disease, hunger, and bombing. After the war, Nazi Germany and its allies were put under strict economic and military restrictions, which kept them from advancing as quickly as everyone else in the world."

Kade paused and Fred spoke up before he could continue. "Good, Kade," he said, smiling slightly. "But, remember, the United States of _America_ – it hadn't specified "North America" yet – and you might not want to explain gassing. You could upset people in your audience."

"Okay, if you think so." Kade nodded then frowned. "Should I talk about the tanks and guns and trenches? We learned a little about it, but they're so… crappy."

"Kade, language," Linda scolded. "But you don't need to go into the particulars. You have ten minutes to cover all of the World Wars – you're going to need to cut a little bit out already."

"Okay. Sorry."

"Go ahead," Fred said encouragingly, leaning back.

Kade discussed the other World Wars in more detail and finished after twelve minutes. Fred and Linda helped him choose parts of his speech that weren't very important and cut them out; he wrote out a new set of notes and thanked both for their attention.

By the time they were done, Lucy had gone through all of her math tables and answered several easy arithmetic questions Kelly posed. John joined them in the living room.

"Can we clean the armor now?" Jonathan asked, wiggling out of Linda's lap and running towards John.

"Is your schoolwork all done?" John asked the older two. They nodded. "Alright, then. You can help us clean the armor."

"Will you teach us about it?" Kade asked as they walked down to the basement.

"You should ask Kelly," Fred told him. "She knows a lot more about it than we do."

Kade knew that, but with this permission, began pelting the Spartan woman with questions. Kelly answered them honestly but simply; when he asked how much damage they could take, she showed him the rent in John's armor where the Didact had dented it, the plasma scorching that covered all four suits, and other signs of abuse. All four had "real" combat armor that was undamaged, but few people knew about the upgraded MJOLNIR sitting in an ONI base against need, and the Spartans wore their old, banged-up armor in public.

John showed Jonathan how to carefully wipe a damp cloth over the smooth outer piece of the armor to wipe off the dust and crime from the battlefield. They had put the bodysuits in their laundry machine after showering, and the inner gel layer was cleaned by another machine.

"Make sure to get the dirt out of the joints," Fred told Lucy, handing her a small pick. She did so carefully, blowing away dust and dirt from the joints of Fred's armor and then moving on to Linda's to do the same.

By the time all fours suits were clean, Jonathan was asleep, curled up on John's lap as the Spartan cleaned his visor and sprayed the helmet's interior with a smell-eating mist. He carefully racked his armor and picked up the boy; Lucy was yawning now, too, and rubbing her eyes tiredly. Kade was fighting the same signs of tiredness.

"Come on," Linda said softly, taking Lucy's hand. "Let's get you to bed."

"Uh huh," Lucy agreed, nodding and yawning again. "Will you tell us a bedtime story?"

"Alright," the woman agreed, picking up the seven-year-old when the girl stumbled with sleepiness. Kade walked back up the stairs. Fred and Kelly unfolded the couch and quickly covered it in sheets and blankets – each child had a favorite. John gently tucked Jonathan into bed after changing him into his pajamas. Meanwhile, Linda took Lucy to the bathroom to supervise her teeth-brushing; then she tucked the girl in and Kade brushed his own teeth. He let Fred tuck him in.

Lucy was already asleep by then, despite the promise of a bed-time story, and Kade clearly wouldn't make it through the introduction. Fred smiled as the boy rolled over onto his stomach and tucked a pillow between Kade's head and the side of the couch to keep him from rolling out of the bed.

All four Spartans watched the children for a moment. "Were we that cute once?" Kelly asked softly, a tender smile on her lips.

"I was," John replied. "You weren't." Kelly punched him gently; John grinned.

"Beast," Kelly hissed, heading towards the stairs. They had an hour's worth of work still with the suits. Silently, each checked over his or her armor and then rolled the racks into the cleaning machines one at a time. Then, satisfied, they silently checked on the children again – Jonathan was sucking his thumb, and John gently removed his fist from his mouth – and they went upstairs to their own beds.

They fell asleep quickly and woke simultaneously when Jonathan knocked at the door frame and let himself in. "I had a nightmare," he sniffled when John sat up and asked softly what was wrong.

Nodding sympathetically, John picked the boy up and went across the hall so his siblings could sleep. Sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in the reading room, he got Jonathan to describe his nightmare – it included falling down, a common theme in the boy's dreams – and then rocked the boy gently until he was asleep again. John carried him back downstairs and put him back into bed, pulling the covers up over Lucy, who thrashed in her sleep and thus was surrounded by pillows to keep Kade and Jonathan from turning black and blue in the morning, and checking on Kade. All three slept soundly; John returned to his own bed.

"All good?" Kelly asked as John slipped back into his cot.

"All good," John replied.

"Hmmm." Kelly rolled over and went immediately back to sleep. Linda and Fred did the same on their side of the room. Each could reach out and touch their neighbor, which would have made the room seem quite cramped to a civilian. In reality, though, the Spartans were used to tight quarters, and being too far from each other made for restless sleep.


	3. A Trip to the Zoo

_Please review - I really like to hear from my readers, and it encourages me to keep going. Just so ya'll know, this story is mostly written already. I'm adding/tweaking as I update, and I'm releasing it slowly in the hopes that you'll enjoy the anticipation (and review, hint hint!). I hope you're enjoying this. The first three chapters are the light-hearted start; it'll get into the romance part in the next few chapters, then we'll hit the tragedy portion. Rated for cussing more than anything else, and it's mostly for safety._

**Chapter 3: A Trip to the Zoo**

Kelly woke first as dawn lightened the sky outside. She glanced through the window above her headboard; the grass outside was frosted slightly, a reminder of the chilly winter coming. She sat up and nudged John's cot; he sat up and stretched. Linda and Fred, hearing the other pair moving around, similarly woke. They all dressed in fatigues. Linda began making breakfast as the other three went out into the chilly morning and jogged around the base a few times. While Linda usually joined them, they didn't leave the children in the house alone.

They passed several other groups of soldiers doing the same, jogging doggedly together and chanting age-old marching songs to keep in step. They didn't call good morning, but a few waved – the Spartans returned the wave and then raced each other back to the house. Kelly won, of course, and Fred came in second.

The three Spartans came in quietly to find the children still asleep despite the delicious smell of pancakes permeating the air.

Fred and John got the children up, waking Kade first so he could shower while Jonathan and Lucy tried ignoring the Spartans' attempts to wake them. Kade, freshly showered and with his teeth-brushed, went into the kitchen and offered to help Linda with breakfast. John took Jonathan into the bathroom, helping the boy take a short shower – they didn't have a bathtub, which always made the youngest pout since he enjoyed soaking everything in sight – and then brush his teeth and get dressed again. Lucy could take a shower by herself, but Kelly still made sure she brushed her teeth well and then helped the child remember to take her medications before she ate.

While the children were readying themselves for the morning, Fred cleaned up the living room and refolded the couch; then he joined everyone in the kitchen. They ate and talked; Lucy wanted to visit the airfield again, Jonathan didn't particularly care _what_ they did, and Kade really wanted to visit the zoo nearby. The serious boy's weakness was animals of all kinds – he became just as hyper-active around zoos as Jonathan was around the Spartans or anything else military.

"How about we visit the air field first," Linda offered, "and then go to the zoo and have lunch in town."

They all agreed to the plan. Fred went to the base's garage and signed out a large civilian van kept on the base to transport groups of soldiers around the city. John and Kelly cleaned up after breakfast while Linda ensured that all three children washed their faces and hands of the sticky syrup from their pancakes. Then she and Kelly took them to the airfield, where they stood at the fence and watched new Pelican pilots practice taking off and landing. Jonathan and Lucy sat on the women's shoulders, giggling when a pilot made an error. Kade asked questions occasionally but was otherwise silent.

Lucy tired quickly of seeing the novice pilots take off and land only to take off again, so they returned to the house and found John and Fred waiting with the van. The children strapped into their seats; John had already secured Jonathan's child seat in the back row and Linda and Kelly sat on either side of him to prevent him from unbuckling himself half-way through the ride.

The drive into the city was quiet. All four Spartans had taken driving lessons. Now that they had to park within lines and couldn't just gun it through the streets, they'd had to re-learn how to handle a vehicle.

John paid their entrance fee; the siblings shared a bank account but rarely used it except for trips such as these. The zoo staff recognized them and greeted each of the children by name, though they were slightly shyer around the large Spartans. The siblings were used to it, though; even years after the war had officially been over and the Spartans publicized as real human beings, many people were still in awe or afraid of humanity's heroes.

The zoo was a popular Saturday destination and crowded. All of the animals were, of course, clones, but that didn't make them any less beautiful. "Natural" animals were almost impossible to find, since most populations had been cloned at one point or another after being killed off.

John carried Jonathan on his shoulders so the boy could see over the crowds and to keep him from running off. They first visited the reptiles in their warm building and Kade proudly named each creature from memory. He'd given some of his favorites a pet name, like the torpid ball python "Fatty," the seven-foot-long iguana "Iggy II,' and the gecko "Gecky." They were names he'd chosen when he was eight, on their first trip to the zoo. He knew whenever an animal was not the one he'd named, such as with the death of the first Iggy when he was ten. Iggy II looked identical to Iggy I to everyone else, but Kade insisted that it was a different iguana, and no one argued.

Next, they went to the large mammal exhibits. Lucy loved seeing the big elephants in their stalls, keeping warm; they reached over the fence with their trunks and Lucy fed them with the zookeeper's permission. She patted their heads when Linda gently boosted her up and they hugged her gently with their trunks.

Jonathan, by contrast, enjoyed seeing the big cats, most especially the tigers. The zoo had three – a Siberian and a pair of Bengals. The Bengals were playing roughly together, rolling through the frosted grass and growling playfully. The Siberian, an older female, lounged in the sun on her rock near the fence, letting visitors get a good look at her.

"Hi, Shelby!" Jonathan called into the exhibit, giggling when the female tiger yawned widely at him, showing off her teeth.

John and Jonathan stayed with the big cats for a while as Lucy and Linda went back to the elephants and Fred and Kelly took Kade on to see the rest of the zoo. They agreed to meet for lunch at the zoo's restaurant.

Jonathan eventually got tired of watching the tigers, who were now all sunning on rocks, and the pair walked through the rest of the zoo. They passed Linda and Lucy, who waved and continued on their way.

"Hey, John?" Jonathan asked, tracing a scar on John's scalp.

"Hmmm?"

"Why're people scared of you?"

John blinked. He hadn't expected the hyper five-year-old to pick up on the subtle shifting of other zoo patrons away from the big man or the way people seemed to speed up as they walked past, their footsteps hurried.

"Well, Jonathan," John replied quietly, moving out of general traffic and into a small alcove meant to shelter visitors as they watched the herd of bison inside the large enclosure mill about. He lifted the child onto the bench and then crouched in front of him. "I'm a Spartan. Most of my life – almost all of it – has been devoted to war, and that's what people know me for."

"But…" Jonathan frowned. "But why should they be scared of you?"

"Wouldn't you be a little scared if someone you thought was a legend was suddenly flesh-and-blood and standing in front of you?"

"Maybe. But you're not a legend."

John chuckled. "I wish that were true, little one. But the truth is, my siblings and I became quite the legend by the time the war ended. You've known nothing but peace, youngling, and that's what I and my siblings – and the entire UNSC – fought and died for. But most of the people today remember the war and remember the horrors of it. And they remember the Spartans – mostly, they remember our body count."

"What's a body count?"

"How many Covenant we killed," John answered quietly. Jonathan seemed to sense that John wasn't really willing to discuss the topic and reached forward, silently asking to be picked up again. John complied willingly.

"They would _really_ be scared of you if they knew how bad your table manners were," Jonathan giggled. John sighed, grinning slightly. The Spartans _had_ learned table manners, but when they were hungry, they tended to "forget" them a bit. The children always laughed about it.

"Probably," John agreed. "Where would you like to go next?"

"I'm hungry. Is it lunch time?"

"I thought you stuffed yourself on pancakes." John turned towards the restaurant; it was about lunch time, and at least he could get a table reserved for the group.

"I'm hungry again. Besides, I'm a growing boy, and Mommy says growing boys need lots of food."

"I'm fairly sure she meant Kade, Jonathan."

"Well, I'm a boy, too, and I'm growing, too!"

John grinned and the boy was silent a moment before asking, in a louder voice than John thought he needed to use, "Why don't you have kids?" John palmed his face. Of course Jonathan would ask in the middle of the zoo, surrounded by families. "I'd like to be… What would I be?"

"A cousin," John suggested.

"I'd like to be a cousin. All my cousins are sissy girls."

"You're really too young to be worried about girls."

"Kade's worried about them!"

"Kade's thirteen. You're five."

"And you're… Old."

"Ouch." John tickled Jonathan. "I'm not _that_ old, thank you."

"Are you as old as Dad? You've got grey hair."

"Grey-_ing_, thank you. Fred's grey; I'm not, at least not yet."

"At least you aren't balding like Dad. He complains about it a lot." Jonathan sighed, propping his elbows up on John's head. "Will I go bald someday?"

"If it's in your genes."

"I don't think bald's in my jeans," the boy replied doubtfully, looking at his pants. John laughed.

"No, Jonathan, your genetic code. Your DNA."

"Ohhhh." It took a minute for Jonathan to realize the Spartan hadn't answered any of his questions. "How old are you?" he asked again.

John shrugged. "I'm younger than your Dad."

"Dad's really old, though."

"Don't tell him that."

"But how old are you?"

"About fifty-five."

"About?"

"Slipspace slows down aging."

"Huh. So if you stayed in Slipspace long enough, could you live forever?"

"Well, the effect is mostly from cryogenics – and no one's been frozen longer than a few months and lived with all their mental and physical abilities afterwards. We aren't meant to hibernate; we don't do well after a couple weeks in a freezer."

Jonathan was silently for a moment. "When _I'm_ that old, will I get grey hair?"

"If you aren't already bald," John teased. Jonathan giggled.

"What about kids? Dad said people are having lots of kids because so many people died in the Covenant-Human war."

"I don't want kids. I get to play with you – you're enough."

"Yeah, but I want a cousin."

"Well, sorry, kiddo. I'm not interested in having kids of my own. I've seen what you do to your parents. No thank you."

Jonathan heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, maybe Fred wants kids."

"I don't think he does, either."

"You could adopt!"

"Jonathan, we're still technically in the military. We could be called out at any moment."

"I could take care of them!"

John chuckled but was saved from having to come up with an answer as they arrived at the restaurant. They were quickly seated despite the lunch rush; John amused Jonathan by making puppets out of the napkins until the other children and Spartans appeared.

They sat down and ordered quickly, though John made Jonathan read at least one dish description out loud from each section of the menu. Kade and Lucy decided to get macaroni as usual; Jonathan wanted to try the fish fingers. John also quietly ordered macaroni for the five-year-old in case he didn't like the fish.

Kelly got the seafood special; Linda, the shrimp salad. Fred hemmed and hawed for a moment before ordering an old-fashioned grilled cheese and Portobello mushroom sandwich, and John ordered the restaurant's famous thick clam chowder.

Their waitress knew all of them by name. Most people referred to them by their numbers, since they were uncomfortable with giving names to the legendary warriors, but Melissa – or "Mel," as she preferred to be called – had made a point of asking their names on their first visit and always managed to serve them when they came into the place. It was one reason the siblings enjoyed visiting the zoo almost as much as the children.

"Thanks, Mel," John said, handing her the menus when they'd all ordered.

"No problem, John," she replied cheerfully. "I'll bring some coloring books."

Kelly made a silent "thank you" face, exaggerating her relief; Mel laughed and hurried off.

"So, this time around, what was everyone's favorite animal?" John asked the table.

"Fatty looked happy," Kade said, smiling himself. "I think he'd just been fed."

Fred chuckled; he was next in the clockwise rotation. "I think _my_ favorite animal today was the little bison calf in the meadow – she wasn't there last time we came."

Lucy nodded enthusiastically. "Did you read about her?" she asked eagerly. Fred, who probably had, shook his head. "She was orphaned in another zoo and none of the animals there would take her, so they brought her here and one of the bison mamas adopted her 'cause she's so cute. Her name's Snowflake 'cause she was born with the first snow at her old zoo."

"That's a pretty name," Linda said, grinning. "What was your favorite animal, Lucy?"

"Oh, Snowflake was close, but I think I like Martha better." Martha was the matriarch elephant who enjoyed Lucy's visits and always made sure to give the child two hugs – one in greeting and one in farewell. "I can hug Martha. I can't hug Snowflake."

Kelly answered next. "Lucas the polar bear is still my favorite," she chuckled, nodding to Linda to continue.

Linda pursued her lips slightly and then shrugged. "They're all very nice animals," she said, grinning. "But I like Big Eyes the most." Big Eyes was the Snowy Owl of the zoo, a temperamental bird who, nonetheless, seemed to like Linda because he always flew out to his perch in the sun and preened when she came by.

Jonathan answered next, thinking for a moment before blurting out loudly, "Shelby!" The adults had known his answer already – he always chose the same animal and he _loved_ Shelby – and chuckled softly.

"Here you go, kids," Mel said, coming back with crayons and coloring books. "We're a little crowded today, so it may take a little while to get your food."

"No problem," John assured her. Mel shot him a grateful smile – her patience and charm meant she usually had to deal with the toughest customers, he knew – and hurried off again.

"Alright, Jonathan – a tiger's not blue," Linda was saying as John turned his attention back to the table. Sure enough, Jonathan was scribbling furiously on his coloring page, and his tiger was quickly becoming blue. He didn't like staying in the lines.

"Shelby could be blue if they dyed her," Jonathan argued, still coloring.

Linda chuckled. "Well, yes. But what is your blue tiger's name?"

"Umm…" Jonathan tapped the crayon against his lips. "How about Blue?"

"Can you be a little more original?" John suggested, grinning.

Jonathan stuck his tongue out at the man and then frowned thoughtfully. "Ummm… How about Razzle Dazzle?"

"That's a nice name. Does Razzle Dazzle sparkle?"

"Do we have a sparkle crayon?"

"No."

"Then no."

John laughed at the slightly offended tone to Jonathan's voice. Across the table, Kade was neatly and efficiently coloring an iguana green and yellow. Lucy, on the other hand, was coloring in a gazelle, which the zoo didn't actually have and she had never seen, so her gazelle was a bright pink color.

"Gazelles are usually yellow and brown," Kelly told her, grinning.

"Mine's pink."

"What's her name?"

"_His_ name is Pinky Sparklebutt." The adults had to swallow laughter at the indignant tone. "And he doesn't like being called a she."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sparklebutt." Kelly cleared her throat to keep from chuckling as she apologized solemnly to the drawing.

"He says it's okay."

"I'm glad I didn't offend him."

"You didn't. He's a drawing. It's hard to offend a drawing."

"But you said he doesn't like being called a she?"

"He doesn't."

Kelly grinned across the table at John, her face clearly saying, "I give up!" as she playfully rolled her eyes.

Their food, despite the lunch rush, arrived quickly. Everything was delicious; Jonathan ended up disliking the fish fingers and gave them to John, who dipped them in his chowder. All three children enjoyed their macaroni with cheesy sauce and a single broccoli floret on top to at least give the illusion of having vegetables with their meal.

They talked quietly through the meal and were nearly finished when one of the restaurant patrons suddenly roared into the quiet din, "What do you mean, _no salmon_?!"

John looked up, as did his siblings; there was dangerous inebriation in that voice and its owner presented a very clear threat. "Kids, stay here," John ordered quietly. He and Kelly stood; Fred and Linda stayed with the children. The pair of Spartans wove quickly through the tables towards the disturbance.

"I'm sorry, sir," Mel was saying quickly. Another waitress was watching, eyes brimming with tears. "We don't have any salmon today…" Before she could continue, the man she was speaking to shot to his feet, roaring in anger.

"It is my son's _birthday_, you stupid slut!" he yelled angrily, glaring at Mel. "I will _not_ have his birthday _ruined_ by a cheap-"

John and Kelly worked in tandem; Kelly gently grabbed Mel and pulled her aside as John moved forward. Where the angry father had been yelling a small waitress, his nose was now inches from a very thick chest; he stopped suddenly and choked, looking up.

"Now," John said quietly; the entire restaurant was silent. "Would you like to continue your meal in peace, sir, or shall we escort you out?"

That enraged the other man; despite the obvious size difference, he sputtered angrily and then swung a fist.

Most of the patrons didn't even see what had happened; one moment, the man was moving and the next, he was on the ground, pinned by the larger man's knee.

John hauled the man back to his feet, keeping pressure on his elbow joint, and steered him through the tables towards the front door exit. The woman and child who had been seated at his table stared stupidly after him, as did most of the rest of the restaurant.

"Mel," Kelly said, looking at the waitress. While she had been staring as John frog-marched the heavy-set civilian out of the restaurant, Mel turned to the Spartan. "Did you call the police?"

"Uh huh," the other waitress said quietly, sniffing quietly.

The manager showed up then, apparently called from the back by the racket. He apologized to the entire restaurant for the interruption and told the two remaining patrons – the angry man's wife and birthday son – that they were welcome to continue their meal in peace or leave. They chose to leave; Kelly went with them and waited with John, who was still holding the man's elbow to ensure he didn't try something stupid, until the police arrived and gave the man a serious lecture. The Spartans returned to their table quietly and sat back down to their interrupted meal.

Mel tried to insist on giving them the meal on the house, but the Spartans refused and left her a double-tip, with instructions to give half of it to the waitress who had taken the brunt of the man's anger. Then they left the restaurant and, since the children had seen all they wanted to in the zoo, headed back towards the base.

"So, what'd we learn today?" Fred asked as he drove.

"Do _not_ piss off John," Lucy answered, giggling.

"Language, Lucy," John scolded quickly.

"Not to be rude in public."

"Good, Kade." Linda ruffled the thirteen-year-old's hair; he scowled in the "I'm too old for that" way.

"And bullying is bad!" Jonathan piped up from the backseat.

"Good, Jonathan," Kelly praised, giving him a gentle high-five.

They packed the kids back up and then Linda and Fred flew them back to their parent's house. Terry and Wendy welcome their kids back with enthusiasm and thanked the Spartans for their babysitting profusely.

"We were thinking of taking a vacation trip to the new colony on Kalgarro," the former admiral told Fred and Linda as they lingered for tea and a few minutes of conversation. Wendy had already taken the kids upstairs to repack their "Spartan overnight" bags, which they always kept ready.

"I've heard the colony is doing well," Fred replied. "Though not much of a vacation spot, and there's still some danger from Kig-Yar pirates on the journey."

Terry nodded slightly. "Yes, but Wendy's brother moved there, and he's itching to see the brats again – and it'd be nice to get away for a while. It's been almost two years since we last left the planet, and I'm not used to so much time dirt side."

"Well, I hope you have a good time," Linda said quietly, sipping her tea.

"And I'd like to invite you four along," Terry continued, grinning at the pair's slightly shocked expression. "Seriously, you all deserve a break – and I mean a _real_ break, away from Earth and all her memories. Kalgarro's completely untouched by the war. You're practically family anyway, and we'd love to have you along."

Fred frowned slightly, thinking. "We appreciate the offer, Terry, but I'm not sure we'd be able to request leave for that long a voyage."

"You guys have _years_ of leave saved up. Will you think about it?"

"We'll let Kelly and John know," Linda promised.

"I'd like to see a colony being built – I've only seen them destroyed," Fred admitted with a wry twist of his lips.

"Well, let us know. We're thinking of leaving sometime in December – travel during their winter and get there just as their spring starts. Should be great."

Linda nodded and exchanged a final round of pleasantries with the former admiral before the pair took their leave, flying back to the base and their home.


	4. Nothin' Much Doin'

Thank you to everyone for the reviews! :) If JohnxKelly isn't your style, then this story is not for you (yes, you, Anon Reviewer!).

**Chapter 4: Nothin' Much Doin'**

Linda and Fred arrived just in time for the evening training, which on Saturdays was given to the Spartans. The base's soldiers included some of the upcoming stars of the UNSC, many of whom were hoping to become ODSTs or Spartan IVs. Despite the war's ending, there were still plenty of jobs for specialized soldiers, and the IV program had the funding to introduce another dozen Spartans during the next round of applications.

John and Kelly were already at the fields when Fred and Linda arrived. They all wore the same simple fatigues that their "victims" did. Technically, the Saturday evening sessions were not mandatory – but missing them was considered lazy and stupid, since the Spartans had methods of training that, while unorthodox, tended to produce a lot better results than other trainers'.

Thirty-four soldiers were gathered in the fields. They stood in neat rows and lines, arranged by platoon.

Linda trotted into her usual position, to John's immediate left, and waited to hear what the Chief had in store for the session tonight.

"Tonight," the Chief said once Linda and Fred were in place, "we will be playing a new game." The soldiers shifted, some grinning – new games usually meant going home with bruises, but the Chief's games were often infinitely more useful than regular training.

"Split into five teams – and don't bunch up with people you know well. This game is about learning your fellow soldiers' skills and using them to best advantage. Elect a leader – yes, elect; you have no ranks tonight – and send them to us." The Spartans backed up to give the teams room to move and organize. It took a little longer than usual, but eventually five soldiers approached the Spartans. John noted they were all at least First Class Petty Officers – not a single Private amongst them.

Kelly took two of them off with her, towards the forest; their groups followed. John told Linda to take charge of another leader and arm him and his group with stun round pistols; Fred took another group and armed them with the same. They stood several meters apart on the fields once they had all gotten a pistol. John took the last group and gave them long, thin spears made of light-weight aluminum.

"These will bend – and break – if you're too hard on them," he told the group, tossing the weapons to soldiers as he spoke. "They're not good shields, either. Your objective in this game is to capture the flags – there are four - which will be guarded by your enemy. If you capture a pistol, you can use it – if you lose your stick, though, you're dead."

"If I'd known we were going caveman, I'd've forgotten to shave this morning," a soldier joked, swinging his aluminum stick. "Why're we going up against guys with pistols, Chief? We'll be slaughtered."

"Not if you're careful," John replied, nodding towards the forest where Kelly had set off a flare. "The other teams are ready. I suggest you be first into the forest; if you're caught in the open, you _will_ be mowed down."

The group took off running. John held back their leader; he looked quizzically at the Spartan, and the group slowed, waiting for their commander. "Go on," John yelled, waving for them to continue into the forest. Linda's and Fred's groups, too, were started to move towards the forest, though they hadn't taken any shots at their "opponents" yet.

"Why're you holding me back?" Petty Officer Munchies, leader of John's group, asked.

"The group elected you. Why?"

"I've got the rank – I've been trained to lead, sir," the man replied. "Most of the other guys haven't."

"So it's time they learned."

Munchies grunted unhappily. "It was a trap," he realized.

John nodded. Kelly brought over the two leaders from her groups; Linda and Fred did the same with theirs.

"You're a cruel man," Kelly chuckled at John when the leaders sat down in the fields together, bemoaning their group's probable confusion about the loss of their elected commander.

"I'm a practical one," John replied. "How long do you think it'll take 'em to figure it out?"

"All night?" Linda guessed, tying one of the flags around her head like a bandana. John, Kelly, and Fred copied her; upon seeing the brightly-colored cloth, the group leaders groaned again, realizing the "enemy" in this game wasn't the groups in the forest but the Spartans themselves.

"Sticks or pistols?" John asked, picking up a stick.

"Sticks," Kelly replied. "We're going to slaughter them otherwise."

The four Spartans waited for the soldiers to figure out the plan. John, Fred, and Linda had told their groups that the flags had been hidden in the forest; Kelly had told her groups that the invaders had the flags. John wanted to know who would figure it out first – an invader or a defender?

"You look good in orange," Kelly complimented John as the thirty-minute mark clicked by. They occasionally heard the sound of a pistol shot or a soldier's curse come from the woods, but so far, no one had emerged.

"Thank you," John replied, grinning. He spun the stick idly in one hand. "Do you think we should go in?"

"Unite them against us?" Fred mused, swinging idly at his brother. John batted the man's stick away. "Since I don't particularly want to be out here past midnight, we probably should."

"Alright, you five," John said, turning to the group leaders who were lying on their backs now, watching the stars. They sat up quickly. "You're our hostages. Let's move."

"I like being a hostage," Munchies laughed, standing. John took charge of him and another leader, Richards. Kelly chose to "capture" Loony, an older solider who'd seen her share of war before returning to Earth for training; Linda took Dickenson, a solemn soldier who hadn't risen in the ranks due to his love for ground-pounding. That left Fred with Chilapas, the youngest leader of the group with a good grasp of tactical situations but no understanding of the bigger picture.

The Spartans marched their prisoners into the forest. They would be double-tasked: protect their prisoner(s) and prevent the thirty-odd soldiers – if that many still remained unstunned in the forest – from capturing their flag.

The first group John encountered consisted of three soldiers armed with pistols; they hesitated upon seeing one of their leaders and John ambushed all three, taking them down with gentle but firm taps of his stick. He collected their pistols and shot each one to ensure they stayed down; they watched him move off with his prisoners with both amusement and consternation.

"How do you know when you win?" Munchies asked, stepping over another stunned solider. They littered the trails through the forest, and upon seeing the Spartan and his hostages, all of them realized they'd been tricked.

"Who said we'd win?" John replied. "Think about it, but keep quiet. I'll gag you if I need to."

Munchies grinned but was silent as they continued deeper into the forest. John kept up the pace and they ambushed two more groups before a third had started catching on and laid a trap of their own.

Two rounds impacted on the Spartan's thigh, immediately deadening the leg. John dropped to one knee and fired in the direction of the hits. From the sound, he hit at least one person before another round impacted his chest, knocking him to his back and quite thoroughly stunning the Spartan. It had been years since the man had been hit with a stun weapon – he'd forgotten the tingling that spread throughout his body.

"We got the Chief!" a couple of the men howled in delight. Their noise brought Kelly, who took everyone still standing out quickly.

Kelly stomped over to John and glared at him. "Feeling good down there?" she asked.

"Wonderful," John replied jokingly. "You should try it."

"I prefer not to. Well, I may as well take you two," she said, addressing John's prisoners. "Let's go." She looked back at John. "I hope it rains on you."

"So vicious," John muttered as his sister led her group away. One of the soldiers lying nearby sighed expansively.

"So how was everyone's day?" a man asked after a few minutes of silence. Everyone answered on some variant of "good" and chuckled.

"What'd you all do in training?" John asked, idly ripping a leaf apart.

"Sang and danced, as usual, Chief," the trainees replied. "You should have joined us."

"He'd've run us into the ground," another man protested. "I have a hard time keepin' up with unaugmented trainers. No offense, Chief."

"None taken," John replied.

"Ooof. It's been a while since we played with stun rounds. I forgot how much they sting."

"You sound like you're in pain, Matalia. Need some bitch pills?" another man snipped.

"Nah," the man replied. "But your sister could fix me right up."

There were several sounds of agreement and amusement, and John sat up carefully, testing his limbs.

"Up already?" a man asked from his left. "I still feel flattened."

John shrugged, grinning slightly. "I'm used to feeling flattened. I spar with Kelly." The men groaned in agreement – at one point or another, they'd all been privileged to spar with the female Spartan.

"She'll get you for that one, Chief," one of the men snickered. "I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you."

"I always do." John stood and wobbled a bit before gaining back his sense of equilibrium. "Join me on the fields when you can," he ordered the men – they groaned but acknowledged the command, some of them starting to sit up and test their movements.

He found Linda waiting for him; she had several other soldiers with her. "John," she said in greeting. "Did you get ambushed, too?"

John nodded, rotating a shoulder. "Once Fred and Kelly are done, we should be just about finished," he said, glancing at the rising moon. The sunlight was darkening, casting the forest in shadows. It would be an advantage to the Spartans, who had better night vision than their unaugmented foes.

"Sounds good," Linda agreed.

Kelly and Fred took another twenty minutes to round up the rest of the soldiers. By then, most of the groups John had stunned had made their way back to the fields with the waiting Spartans. They were still missing half a dozen soldiers, but Kelly and Fred came out of the woods with their prisoners carrying the missing men and women.

"There we go," Kelly grunted, setting down the soldier she carried. "Four-zip, Spartans win again." She smirked, waving all four of the brightly-colored flags.

"Aren't winners supposed to treat losers to lunch?" Chilapas asked, stowing a pile of pistols in the rack Linda had brought out to the fields.

"I thought it was the other way around," Fred answered, smirking.

"No, I'm fairly sure winners treat," Richards laughed. "You know, makin' up for whoopin' our asses and all that."

"We hardly "whooped" you," Kelly protested. "We had a 50% casualty rate."

"And we had a 99% casualty rate – 100% if you count prisoners."

"I count prisoners," Chiapas said loudly.

"Alright," John said, calling the soldiers back to order. They lined up quickly, except the few who couldn't stand yet. "Good exercise tonight, soldiers. You'll have to do better next time."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the men and women barked, standing to attention.

"Fall out." They saluted and split up into groups. Several took the weapons back to the armory, while others grabbed their stunned comrades and carried them towards the barracks.

John and his siblings walked slowly towards their house, taking the bandanas off. "Terry wants us to come on a vacation with him and the family," Fred said.

"A vacation?" Kelly asked, raising an eyebrow. "We're Spartans. Vacation isn't in our vocabulary. Why does he want us to go with him?"

"He just wants us to," Linda replied, smiling slightly. "You've got to admit, it'd be nice to get back into outer space. I always hated being on ships, but being dirt-side so long is no better."

"And we have plenty of leave," Fred pointed out. "They'd like to take us."

"But can we go at all? We still need permission even with leave."

"I think they'd allow it – there are still some Kig Yar pirates out there, and some human ones, too – we could go as bodyguards, check on the progress on Kalgarro…" Fred grinned slightly.

"Kalgarro? Isn't that the colony they're trying to start up on one of the old ice moons of Jupiter?"

"Exactly," Fred replied. "It'd be nice to see a colony being built instead of destroyed."

"We don't have to decide right away," Linda reminded them quietly. "They won't be going until December – we've got a couple of months to make our choice."

"Unless, of course, Terry cuts straight to the top and requests our presence," Kelly pointed out shrewdly.

"He wants it to be our decision," Fred told her. "We've done well with everything else civilian – maybe it's time for a little "us" time, like we haven't had since Reach."

"We've had plenty of "us" time," Kelly protested. "We've had nothing _but_ "us" time since that last pirate excursion."

John nodded. "But it may be a good idea," he said quietly. "We could perform several functions. Bodyguard and escort for Terry and his family; check on Kalgarro's progress and the UNSC troops stationed there."

"_And_ a vacation," Linda pointed out. "We've never had a vacation. It sounds like fun. Kalgarro's supposed to have great indoor beaches." She grinned slightly and opened the front door to their house; they went inside quickly.

"Why a vacation?" Kelly huffed, striding into the kitchen and opening the fridge door. She pulled out bottles of chilled water and handed them to her siblings. They stood around the kitchen. "We've got everything we could want right here. It's peaceful, we've got troops to train, weapons to try out." She shrugged. "I'm just saying that we don't need to go."

"It's not a matter of need – or even what would be best," Linda replied after a quiet moment's thought. "It could be – it _is_ – only about what we want. What would make us happy?"

"I'd like to see the colony," Fred admitted, grinning slightly. "Humanity's rebuilding around us – and we're a very small part of that now, compared to the part we played in the war. Besides, who knows when the next time we'll get to see a colony being made instead of glassed?"

"I agree with Fred," John mused. "It would be nice to see something being built – help build it, if possible. And we could go as guards for the ship, too. We don't have to go for one purpose."

Kelly shrugged. "I'm impartial," she said. "If you all think it'd be fun, then let's do it."

"I'll put in the paperwork," John offered. His siblings nodded in agreement.

"Now that we've agreed on that," Linda said, shooing Kelly away from the fridge, "we have to agree on what to have for dinner."

"I'm not all that hungry," Fred admitted, shrugging. "Whatever you cook sounds good to me, I think. Anyone got ideas?"

"I'm not starving, either," John agreed. "Just not all that hungry. Maybe something light?"

"How about salad and fruit?"

"Sounds good," Kelly agreed.

Linda nodded and got to work. Her siblings, knowing she preferred to work in silence, dispersed. Kelly and John went down into the basement and set out the sparring mats. Fred decided to go upstairs and work on a few of his own projects.

"So," Kelly panted, fifteen minutes into their sparring, "what're you looking forward to the most?" She grunted as John got hold of her arm and twisted it behind her. They stood for a moment, breathing heavily but not yet exhausted.

"Linda's looking forward to the beaches," John replied.

"I know." Kelly threw John over her hip and followed him to the floor, pinning him down. "But what are _you_ looking – oof!"

John rolled and pinned his sister. "I don't know," he answered, shifting his weight as she bucked against him. "I think I'd like to see agricultural fields – real ones with human hands on them, not just robotic feeders."

"Huh." Kelly managed to gain a little leverage and snapped the palm of her hand into the crook of John's elbow. His arm buckled and she swiftly wiggled out from under him. "What for?"

"It'd be interesting to see what kind of food they're growing," John replied, rolling away from his sister. "And I'm sure I'd enjoy seeing the terraforming process."

"I think that's what's drawing Fred."

"What about you?" John asked, feinting to the right. Kelly called his feint, however, and dove within his reach, grabbing onto his arms and throwing him to his back.

"I don't know," she said, sitting on his chest. John yawned and tucked his hands under his hand, grinning slightly. Sensing the match was over, Kelly rolled off of him, lying on her back next to him. "I think it'd be interesting, but I'm not entirely sure about going on a vacation. I mean, we've never done that before. We've never needed vacations."

"No, but that's what we fought for – what our siblings died for. Peace. And peace means vacations, school for the kids, trips to the zoo, War Games instead of war…" John grinned slightly as Kelly huffed in reluctant agreement.

"Also," Kelly said after a moment, "I guess we could use a tan." Despite spending more time outside, none of the Spartans had lost their trademark paleness.

"You'd look good in a tan," John teased, rolling away when she smacked at him.

"Are you saying I don't look good now?" she asked, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

John merely grinned and got to his feet, offering her a hand. Kelly accepted it and he levered her to her feet. They went upstairs where Linda was just setting out dinner; John called Fred down and they sat down to eat.

"Any plans for tomorrow?" John asked when they'd finished eating and were cleaning the table.

"Not for me," Linda replied, shrugging. Kelly nodded in agreement.

"I thought I might go check on the IVs progress." Fred scratched his head and shook his hair out, handing John a stack of plates. "It's been a few days since our last surprise inspection."

John nodded thoughtfully. "I'll go with you – and while we're there, I can fill out the leave paperwork."

"I think I'll tag along," Kelly agreed. "I want to talk to the techs about a new suit design."

Linda grinned. "Well, count me in," she said, covering the leftover salad with a clear plastic film and setting it in the fridge. "I'll find something to do."

"The snipers might enjoy a demonstration," Fred suggested.

"It's been a while. I might miss."

"You never miss," John reminded her. "We can practice before we go if you want to."

"I have been itching to try out the new hybrid sniper," Linda admitted, leaning against the counter. "And no one has those except the IVs. I can practice there."

"Let's leave the armor. We could try out the new suits – just to make sure they fit and all. It's been a while since our last try in those." Kelly's siblings chuckled; they knew how much she liked their new battle suits, which they didn't get to use except in testing new features.

"It'd be good to see how much damage they can take," John agreed, putting a glass in the drying rack. "They were talking about adding in a secondary shielding system that would take over if the primaries fail and I'd like to see how that performs."

"Like when _someone_ steps right into plasma." Kelly half-glared at her brother from where she was wiping down the table.

"The shields are designed to protect me from that," John protested.

"It doesn't mean you get to just wade into plasma like you're going for a swim."

The Chief waved off his siblings' good-natured teasing. He was a little reckless when it came to plasma, he admitted to himself. "I think we should plan to arrive before they get warmed up; we could take over for the day, if the trainers are willing to let us."

"Willing?" Kelly scoffed, hanging the towel she'd used on the oven's handle to dry. "We can just take them. Those trainers are half-dead trying to keep the IVs working hard. It'd be different if we knew how to train everything we know into them…" She grimaced; they'd tried, but their method of training had resulted in more broken bones and dropouts than the UNSC had seen for generations, and they'd been quietly removed from that duty.

"But we don't, not for the long-term," John reminded her. "We can take them for a day – maybe even a few. But they just can't keep up with us."

"It'll be a sad day if we ever face enemies like the Covenant again," Kelly murmured.

"There are more IVs than there were IIs. And they have better training and equipment than the IIIs. It isn't just a matter of training – quantity counts, too."

"Speaking of IIIs, has anyone heard from Tom or Lucy recently?" The two IIIs were in charge of the remaining third-generation Spartans. For all intents and purposes, the public didn't know they existed, and they were all in deep space, running missions on Kig Yar pirate ships and protecting shipping crews.

"No," John, Fred, and Kelly replied.

"Last I heard, they were about to run some human pirates out of a major shipping lane near Newest Jericho," Fred continued. He leaned on a counter near Linda.

"I wonder how that went." Jealousy laced Kelly's voice, but just barely.

"I'll ask." Fred headed upstairs to the siblings' shared terminal. From there, he would be able to encrypt and send out a private message to the IIIs. They wouldn't receive a reply for a few days, but they were used to the delays in interstellar communication.

John carefully set the last of the washed dishes in the upright drying rack and drained the sink, washing his hands quickly.

"We have another school visit this week," Linda suddenly said, looking at the display on the fridge. "It must have come in while we were out."

"Which school?" Kelly asked, joining her sister.

Linda grinned. "The kids'," she replied. "We can prove Lucy's not a liar."

Kelly nodded, quickly accessing the fridge's small home terminal and looking at the assignment. As part of getting the public used to the Spartan program, the IIs visited at least one public institution – like a school or hospital - every week. Not only did it give the public a chance to gawk at the war heroes, but it also projected strength and unity into the next generation. And if some children set their hearts on joining the UNSC – especially the Spartan IV program – as a result, brass wasn't going to complain.

"Armor?" John asked, drying his hands on a small towel.

"Doesn't say," Kelly replied, closing the assignment and tacking a note of reminder to the fridge. "At least a couple of us should go in armor."

"All four," Linda said quickly. "We can always change out in the Pelican, but the public wants armored Spartans, not old men and women."

"Some of us still look young," Kelly muttered, smirking at her sister.

"Some of us are vain and dye our hair," Linda replied without missing a beat. Kelly grinned in agreement. "What do you think, John?"

"We'll wear the armor at first," John agreed. "But we'll have to change out if they want us to actually go inside."

His sisters nodded in agreement. "Can we do a Spartan Jump?" Kelly asked, eyes brightening.

"We're not inserting into a battle zone, Kelly." John shook his head.

"They might not have a Pelican-sized parking spot."

John knew she was right; further, he knew that she enjoyed showing off, and a Spartan Jump was exactly the sort of grand entrance she'd like to make.

"_If_ we clear it beforehand _and_ have a good landing zone _and_ there is no way to park the Pelican, then yes, we can jump in," John finally agreed after a moment of thought.

Kelly grinned and ran upstairs to look at satellite imagery of the school, hoping to find a lack of landing zones. John turned to Linda, who looked up after their sister with fond exasperation. Signing for silence, she beckoned for John to join her and they walked outside and then towards the woods and away from the house. Curious, John kept his silence until Linda broke it.

"I worry about Kelly sometimes," the woman admitted, stepping over a thick log and sliding down an incline. She waited for him at the bottom.

"About what?" John asked, grabbing a tree branch to keep himself steady as he slid to a halt next to her.

"She loves children," Linda replied, walking away.

Wondering what his sister was trying to get at, John followed quickly, ducking under a branch that Linda had pushed out of her way.

"And?" he finally asked when she was silent for a few minutes.

"And I think she's setting herself up for disappointment." John shook his head in puzzlement; Linda sighed, turning on her heel and forcing the larger Spartan to halt quickly, his back to a tree. "Look at how much she enjoys having Terry's kids over. At how much she enjoys visiting schools and daycares, but dislikes going to hospitals – unless there are children there – and colleges. How far she's willing to go to play with Lucy. How angry she was when Jonathan skinned his knee, or when Kade got a split lip." John nodded, remembering those episodes.

"She likes going to the training camps," John pointed out, feeling very much like he was missing a big piece of the puzzle Linda was trying to lay in front of him.

"John." Linda pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "Can't you see it? Kelly _wants _children."

"Impossible." The word was out before John could think to pull it back; he winced slightly as Linda glared at him.

"Impossible?" she asked, shaking her head. "John, you really don't get things sometimes. We've been conditioned since we were six to ignore our human side." John nodded; this wasn't news to him, after all. But before he could speak, Linda continued. "We've been taught to ignore pain, suffering – to let go of the deaths of our brothers and sisters. We love each other, but we don't know intimacy; we have no sexual drives. But we weren't supposed to make it to this age – the conditioning was supposed to keep us alive in a battlefield, and without the constant need to be a soldier…" She frowned and stepped back, wordlessly shaking her head. "I think those barriers are coming down, John – in all of us, but Kelly's expressing it more freely because that's how she is."

John rubbed a hand awkwardly over his head. He'd seen the same signs Linda had mentioned, but he'd never thought more about it than Kelly's exuberant nature. "And you think Kelly is looking to settle down and start a family?"

"I think she's doing it unconsciously, but yes. And I think we're not far behind. You can't tell me you don't enjoy having the kids around."

"I do enjoy spending time with them," John answered carefully. "But I don't think I want to… To have any of my own."

"We're getting older, John. Our bodies are built to be the supreme human form, which I think just strengthens the urge to reproduce. Whether or not that's true… I couldn't tell you. I'm not a biologist. I think the original reduction to our sexual drive is still there – that was a physical change, not a mental one. But the urge to reproduce has nothing to do with wanting intimate contact from a lover."

"We're still soldiers of the UNSC – they practically own us."

"I know, which is why I said Kelly's setting herself up for disappointment. She won't – she can't – find herself someone to settle down with. Let's be perfectly honest – she couldn't choose anyone outside of our group. They wouldn't understand that she wouldn't enjoy intimacy as anything but a means to an end. And it's perfectly possible she'd break them accidentally." John could see the tips of Linda's ears through her hair; they were bright red. He realized what she was talking about and tried not to follow that path in his thoughts.

"Besides," Linda said, walking slowly again, "the UNSC can't afford to let us go. There are still threats out there. The IV program is going well, but they're second-rate compared to us. It's not a nice assessment, but it's true. And they've invested billions of dollars in us. They want their money's worth."

John walked behind his sister, thinking quietly for a moment before speaking. "You're worried that Kelly will be unhappy when she consciously realizes," he murmured.

"Yes," Linda replied, relief in her voice. "And when she does – I don't know what will happen, honestly."

"Don't you think she can figure this out on her own?" John asked.

Linda turned her head around to stare at him with a growl. "Would I be telling you this if I thought she could handle it?" John held up his hands in surrender. "No, she can't. None of us can. We've never really had friends outside of our group – not to mention… Well, there were rumors that you and Kelly snuck out to kiss, but we never caught you. So she might not have any idea what she actually _wants_."

John blinked in astonishment. He and Kelly _had_ made a habit of sneaking out of the training camp at Reach, but he hadn't thought the rest of them had come to that conclusion. Besides, John had been a part of almost every group that escaped the camp every night. He cleared his throat consciously.

"Oh, please, John," Linda chuckled, some of her former humor restored. "We were kids. We gossiped."

John palmed his face. "We never…" Well, that was untrue. There had been that one time, when he and Kelly had been wrestling in the grass… The old memory had faded with time, but he did remember one thing with complete clarity.

Linda merely raised an eyebrow and continued forward. "So, do you understand now?"

"I don't think so," John replied honestly. Linda huffed. "I'm seeing the same signs, Linda, but I don't think Kelly wants kids. I think she likes being around them – she likes playing with Lucy because she never got to as a kid. And she feels protective because that's how we are. _You_ got pretty upset when Jonathan fell down the stairs that one time. Plus, they've got an innocence to them that we never did, so we're naturally attracted to it."

"I guess you could be right," Linda mused reluctantly. She turned back towards the house. "But I still think we're starting to slip."

"Of course we are. We're no longer bound to a soldier's life. If we wanted to, we could take hour-long baths and eat fresh food all day long and never pick up a gun unless ordered to again. I don't know about you, but I, for one, would not enjoy that. But not enjoying it doesn't mean I couldn't do it."

"_And_ we're getting older."

"And we're greying," John agreed, grinning slightly as he ducked under a branch. "But I still think you're off the mark on this one."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

"Or maybe it's something only you and Kelly can understand," John offered after a few minutes of silent walking.

Linda eyed him. "Oh, I see. Female hormones talking, is that it?" she asked, playfully pretending to be angry.

"Maybe," John agreed, ducking as she smacked at him. "But in all seriousness, Linda, you and Kelly _are_ women, and women do tend to feel the urge to reproduce more than males."

"Alright, I can agree to that. But still. You'd think that, with all our emotional conditioning practically out the window by now, we'd be feeling some sort of urge… All of us, I mean."

John shrugged. "I like being around the kids, but I don't want any of my own. I've heard the horror stories of diapers – and then constantly screaming as a toddler, then pre-teen hormones, then teenage hormones and boyfriends... No, thank you. I'll let Terry deal with that part." He grinned.

"Gods, you're such a child sometimes." Linda scooped up a handful of leaves and threw them at her brother. "I was _trying_ to have a serious conversation."

John chuckled and ducked away. "I know, Linda. And I am taking it seriously. But we're going to have to agree to disagree on this one – at least until more evidence crops up."

"Alright," Linda agreed, heading into the lawn behind the house. "But not a word to them."

John nodded and followed her into the house.


	5. Spartan IVs

**Chapter 5: The Spartan IVs**

"Alright, trainees, you've got some _special_ guests today who're gonna see if you're really Spartan material! And they should know!"

John stood rim-rod straight as the drill sergeant yelled at the thirty Spartan IV candidates standing at attention. The program had had only seven openings at the last recruitment quarter – three months ago – and since then, nearly half of the candidate pool had dropped out – some due to injury, others due to exhaustion. They would have continued if they could have, mostly, but only the very best survived and would get the augmentations that would allow them to carry their own GEN 2 MJOLNIR armor. Those who had dropped out of the last one had been included in this pool, along with two dozen new trainees.

This group, twelve openings were available – which mean a few IVs had died somewhere, since usually they only increased the total number by five to seven each quarter. The trainees were lined up in rows of ten, making them three deep; each one was bigger than the average person, even the average Marine. John recognized, too, a few Navy Seals this time around – they didn't usually last very long, less used to working constantly in gravity than in 0 gee, where they were pre-trained to fight. As usual, the group mostly consisted of ODSTs, in the prime of their life.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Sierra-117, leader of the Spartan II platoon. You will address him as "sir" or "LT" at all times, are we understood?" the man thundered.

"Sir, yes, sir!" the trainees roared back. _They have good voice, at least_, John noted.

"And these two are Master Chiefs Sierra-087 and Sierra-058. You will address them as "sir" or "Chief." Again, he asked if they understood and they roared confirmation. He similarly introduced Fred and then concluded his sermon with a tirade about how weak they were, how strong the training regime would make them, and their opportunity, at any time, to leave the program without any black mark on their record.

Unlike the II program, the IV was completely voluntary. There were ups and down – often the very best of the UNSC weren't willing to dedicate their lives to her service, which meant that Spartan IVs, John knew, were paid _a lot_. More, even, than the IIs had been. Though money had always been a foreign concept to the IIs, the IVs knew exactly how much they were getting and often bragged about it. As far as John knew, he and his siblings were completely taken care of for the rest of their lives, but that was basically the extent of his knowledge.

The trainer stepped to the side and let John take over. Dressed simply in his training clothing – fatigues, a heavy backpack carrying several pounds of bricks in lieu of supplies, and a pistol strapped to his hip – John knew the trainees were a little disappointed. They had, of course, expected the IIs in full MJOLNIR armor, decked out with rifles and grenades and probably an anthem playing somewhere. John snorted. They still had the arrogance of ODSTs, even the non-ODSTs.

His sisters were similarly dressed and their short haircuts had likely fooled several of the soldiers, notoriously archaic in their view of females, into thinking they were thinner men. Fred, in addition to the regular gear, was also playing with a knife again – though the soldiers watched John unerringly, the ones closest to Fred kept the man in their sight.

"I," John said, standing easily now, "am Sierra-117, Spartan II. In recognition of your abilities and above-average speed, strength, and other traits, you have been accepted into the training program for the Spartan IVs. There are twelve openings and thirty of you. We expect more than half of you to drop out. If you do not, you will be offered a chance to become Spartan IVs; you will undertake the augmentations that will allow you to wear the GEN 2 armor."

"To begin," Fred continued, stepping up smoothly, "you will learn to work with your squad mates until you trust them with everything and can anticipate each other. More than armor, that is the true strength of the Spartan IV program. You will eat, sleep, and train together. You will be dirty, hurt, crying, exhausted, and angry – as long as you do it _together_. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good." Fred nodded in satisfaction. "Your first day is learning what you can – and can't – do. You won't be compared to the average soldier anymore. Now, you will be compared to us – and we will beat you. We are stronger, faster, and tougher than you are, make no mistake of that. You will strive to keep up with us. If you cannot, you will be cut. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good. Then line up, trainees, and we'll go for a little run." The soldiers visibly started when Kelly spoke, her higher voice marking her instantly as female. Several glanced at her cautiously but quickly did as they were told.

John and Fred took the rear; Linda and Kelly set the pace up front. They alternated jogging and running throughout that morning. The Spartan IIs, not quite in their prime, nonetheless ran the trainees into the dirt until most of them were puking on the sidelines and the rest had already done so and tried to continue only to keel over in exhaustion when their legs refused to hold them upright.

John and his siblings were breathing hard at the end of the exercise as they observed the exhausted soldiers. One of the drill sergeants shook his head off to the side; John didn't spare the man a glance. He knew that these men and women needed a good dose of humiliation before they could accept that they were not going to breeze through this training camp.

"This is the best the UNSC can provide?" Kelly said loudly enough for nearby soldiers to hear. There were a few growls at her derisive tone, but no one said anything aloud.

Fred led the next part as the soldiers tried to keep up with the Spartans. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and again," Fred chanted in rhythm. At one, he dropped to a push-up position; on the next three numbers, he completed three pushups. On five, six, seven, and eight, he switched to one-handed pushups, two per arm. On nine, he pulled his legs back up under his body into a crouch; at ten, he was standing at attention.

Few of the soldiers managed to keep up with him, and even John could feel the strain of exercises he hadn't done since he was a child. The rapid-fire pace not only strengthened the trainee's bodies but would also get them used to moving more quickly than they normally did – a necessity, because once in their armor, they'd have to keep track of all four limbs moving more rapidly than generally possible.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10," Fred chanted, completing the exercise. Kelly and Linda walked around to either side of the trainees, watching their form.

"Trainee, your ass should be straight in line!" Kelly barked at one unfortunate soul, who refused to look up but straightened out his back again so that he was in a proper push-up position.

"You're going to sweat, trainee – so get sweating!" Linda yelled at another man.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10." Fred stood, watching the trainees as they stumbled upright and almost collapsed again, thinking he was going to continue. "On your feet, trainees!" he barked. "Take a drink and jog it off!"

The trainees gratefully took swigs of water from their Camelbacks and then jogged around the square while the four Spartans came together to discuss their next move.

"They won't keep going for long," Kelly muttered, watching the trainees jog. She raised her voice suddenly. "On his heels, trainee – anyone falls behind will be running through lunch!" The woman who had been falling back slightly increased her pace doggedly, staring at the heels of the man in front of her.

"Lunch break?" John suggested, glancing at the sun.

Linda shook her head. "They don't know any better – they'll eat and then throw up this afternoon. We'll need to babysit them for at least forty-five minutes before releasing them to lunch. Nothing too strenuous – maybe a demonstration?"

"Is the field set up?" John asked, turning to one of the drill sergeants watching with a slightly disapproving frown.

"No, sir, but we could get it up in half an hour."

"Do it, please."

"Yes, sir." The man turned and called his comrades together; they headed first towards the garages, where the supplies would be, and then drove to the farthest field.

"Fall in, trainees!" Kelly barked at the men and women. They stumbled back into their lines, standing as straight as possible. They were covered in dirt and dust streaked with sweat lines running down their faces and darkening their clothing. "In order to show you exactly what kind of performance we expect from you in the upcoming months of your training, we've arranged a demonstration. Meet us at the far fields in fifteen minutes. You may rest – do _not_ eat – until then, if you hurry over." She looked at them for a minute. "Fall out!"

Some, taking her advice, jogged quickly towards the fields on the outskirts of the camp. Others walked; they would not have time to relax once they got to the fields.

Kelly and her siblings, meanwhile, quickly headed into the technician's workplace, commonly called the Barn, and suited up into their new armor quickly.

John couldn't help but admire the new suits. Not only were they lighter, their paint fresh and unchipped by years of warfare and hasty repairs, but they truly felt like an extension of his body. His old suit felt like that after he'd gotten used to it, but these suits were tailored to their Spartan, a luxury they hadn't had during the war. As a result, the team was entirely suited up within ten minutes.

"You look great," one of the technicians said, grinning. "Smile pretty!" She held up a camera and Kelly grabbed John in a headlock before he could insist they leave. She held him down firmly while the technician took their picture. Linda and Fred joined in the second one.

"Alright, go have fun – but be gentle on it, alright?" the technician asked, winking. "I'd rather spend my time upgrading and testing than fixing it because you got too confident. Now, shoo."

They quickly jogged out of the Barn and through the camp, coming to the outer fields with a full thirty seconds to spare.

The trainees were gathered in a group with several of the drill sergeants. Most were sitting; all straightened to attention at the sight of the foursome, though, and gaped.

John had been expecting that reaction. The GEN 1 upgraded armor – Mark VIIIs - were not only sleeker and slimmer in design, though still just as tough, but highlighted with silver and gold. It was an artistic touch that the technicians insisted on, since the four IIs wouldn't choose a new armor color.

Kelly's had streaks of gold through her chest and sides that looked fluid as they danced across her torso. Her silver highlighting was minimal – a few token splashes on her forearms and calves. On her chest, right under her number designation, was her white rabbit design, painted in white and outlined with silver.

Linda, by contrast, had her visor outlined in silver. Trailing silver paint led over the back of her helmet, down through her shoulders and then split into several thinner strands that wove down her back and calves. Her chest plate had a stenciled design in gold, an ancient Indian mandala – simplistic yet elegant and beautiful. It represented an eye, though stylized heavily.

Fred's own armor was covered equally in gold and silver, ragged slashes that looked random yet had a certain harmonious flair. The raggedness of the edges was actually a carefully-crafted "mistake" that imitated knife slashes. Just under his number designation was a golden knife, about seven centimeters long, with silver "blood" dripping from the end.

John had left the design of his own armor to the technicians, except for one part. Where his siblings were green, silver, and gold, John had chosen his own color for the chest insignia – a stylized picture of Cortana in her signature blue-purple. He couldn't see it while wearing the armor, but he knew what it looked like: the AI with both hands raised, palms up. Over one hand floated a silver halo, a reminder of their first real mission together. A golden Requiem rested in her other hand: their last mission together. The technicians had added gold and silver swirls on the rest of the armor, which John didn't mind.

John heard several muttered comments – such as "wow" and "holy shit" – before the trainees came fully to attention. "The course is ready, sir," one of the drill sergeants, similarly impressed, said, looking all four of them up and down. "Everything's live."

Upon hearing that, several soldiers glanced uncertainly at the fields, clearly expecting that they were going to be expected to run through the gauntlet. John observed the field for a moment.

The expanse of dirt and scruffy grass, mostly run down to the roots, was clearly marked with a line of fence around the area. Though it wouldn't be difficult to climb over, the warning signs promised death to anyone who entered that wasn't supposed to be inside. Several towers around the perimeter of the fifty-meter-wide square could house anything from instructors to automated turrets to civilian watchers. John couldn't see inside to see what surprises the drill sergeants had come up with this time.

The first few meters of the obstacle course were littered with freshly-dug pits – a mine field, then. The next couple of meters had clearly been watered into a thick mud pit; likely several feet deep, it could trap a fully-armored Spartan easily. After that, there was a section of thick barbed wire, spun into a nearly-impenetrable barrier. Then a low wall for cover – though John didn't doubt for a second that it, too, was wired to explode.

Then a series of higher walls that they would have to climb; there was no way around them, but also no handholds. They'd be completely exposed on the front sides. After the series of walls, the trainers had left a meter of open ground and then planted another mine field.

At the other end of the field was, as John had expected, the ceremonial bell that every Spartan candidate had to ring at least once before they could graduate. It was, in fact, a replica of the bell that John and his siblings had used in their own training days. The original had, of course, been melted with Reach, but the tradition of the bell ringing was powerful with candidates. There was also a myth that the first person to ring the bell in every group of trainees would become the leader of that platoon of Spartan IVs – just as John, the first child to ring the original bell on Reach, had gone on to become the Master Chief of tales that were quickly becoming legend.

John turned back to the trainees. "Stand to and watch closely. This is what we'll be expecting from you before you ever become Spartans." He nodded to his siblings, who were all smirking under their helmets.

The four activated their shields manually – to save power, since they didn't generally need shields in training, technicians had installed a manual shield override. The dumb AIs in each suit were advanced enough to detect incoming threats and snap them on with a millisecond's notice, too.

Silently, the four arranged themselves in a line across the beginning of the course. John thought he saw movement in the shadows of one of the towers and figured the trainers had set up at least one automated turret.

John clicked his green light once and shot forward into the mine field. Fred followed him, a couple meters behind; Kelly and Linda paired up as well. As soon as their boots hit the dirt, two of the towers exploded in automatic fire. Kelly and John ran, jigging sideways randomly, too quickly for the proximity triggers on the mines to catch the first one through the field. The mines exploded and as the dirt showered them, Linda and Fred followed their siblings. The turret fire peppered their shields, but they ignored it – they could afford to, but stepping on a single mine would definitely have consequences.

They came to the mud pit and Kelly slid to a stop, turning; John grabbed her hand and she threw him bodily across the mud pit and into the barbed wire, which he rolled through easily. A strand wrapped around his foot; he had to stall for a moment to tug himself free, sparing a glance over his shoulder to find Linda being thrown across the pit as well. Fred would toss Kelly over and then wade through himself; she'd wait for him on the far side and pull him free as quickly as possible.

John turned back to the front, letting Linda catch up. They charged through the barbed wire, snapping it when they needed to, and crouched behind the first short wall. Kelly and Fred joined them a moment later; Fred's lower half was covered in mud.

They didn't need to communicate as they took stock of the situation. Fred and Kelly jumped over the low wall first, followed by John and Linda; the two Spartans in front slid into the wall, making it groan. Their siblings, following them, jumped and hit the wall at the same time, higher up. It groaned in protest and then collapsed; Linda and John rode it down while Kelly and Fred ran up it to hit the next wall. They pushed over all four of the walls that way. The last wall fell into the mine field and triggered half a dozen shock mines, which ripped it to pieces.

John and his teammates took a moment to find and unearth two of the mines in the last minefield. Ringing the bell would silence the guns, but Spartan IIs were trained to eliminate threats – not merely put them off. So Kelly climbed one tower while Fred climbed another, each carefully cradling a mine. They tossed their cargo into the tower's interior and then jumped back down. As the mines exploded, all four Spartans gathered at the base of the pole. Kelly rang the bell for all of them.

"They used to make these better," Fred murmured as they walked out of the obstacle course and towards the waiting trainees.

"They're not equipped for us," John replied, eyeing his brother's mud-covered armor. "But the mud pit is a new one."

"I liked it," Kelly chirped, a grin in her voice that came over the radio.

The trainees stared at the course, which was still falling apart in places, and then at the four Spartans, who – except for muddy Fred – were untouched. The IIs arranged themselves in an arc again and addressed the candidates.

"That was a simple exercise to show you what you can expect in the next few weeks," John began. "You will learn the teamwork we displayed as well as the speed, strength, and agility to navigate such a course without tiring. You will now have a half hour to yourselves, during which time you will be expected to eat and prepare for this afternoon's training session, which will be overseen by your regular drill instructors. We will continue to test you as you build yourselves and your team. Dismissed."

The soldiers saluted, a new admiration in their eyes as they jogged silently back towards the barracks and mess hall. The drill instructors surveyed the damage to their obstacle course with a mixture of amusement and dismay.

"Next time," one of them scolded teasingly, "warn us that you're going to destroy the guns. Those were brand new and you know how fussy the guys over at supplies get after you destroy their toys."

"Thank you for setting up the course," John replied.

"You're welcome. The new armor's beautiful."

Kelly nodded, grinning under her helmet – not that anyone but her siblings knew it. "It's lighter, too," she chuckled.

"We were hoping that mud pit would get you, seeing how heavy you are," another instructor admitted with a rueful snort.

"It's something we've never faced on the training field, but it came up plenty of times in battle," John said thoughtfully. "It's a good idea to incorporate that – and, if possible, other terrains."

"Well, I can't promise an artic zone, but we'll look at what we can do," the head trainer agreed.

John shook the hands of the men and women and the four trooped back to the Barn.

"What did you _do?_" the head technician, Sara, yelled at Fred when he clunked in covered in mud.

"Playing in a mud pit, ma'am," he answered cheekily.

"No, don't come in, you're going to get mud - stop!" Fred stopped half-way into the main room. "Why me?" Sara asked the gods quietly, looking at the ceiling and then glaring at Fred. "Stay right there, mister."

"Yes, ma'am."

John chuckled and walked past his brother to one of the so-called Stalls, where the armor removal machine was waiting. He walked into it and it started pulling the parts off of his body. While he could do it himself, or with the help of a technician or two, the machine would store the pieces, clean them, and check for damage.

Sara walked around Fred once, surveying the damage, and then trotted to the wall. She came back with a hose and sprayed the Spartan down thoroughly, muttering the whole time about getting her beautiful, shiny armor dirty.

"Playing in the mud, indeed. Alright, Fred, go into a Stall," Sara ordered. "John, Kelly, Linda, all going well? No kinks?"

"No, ma'am," the three answered. John was finished within moments and stepped back out of the machine, pulling his fatigues back on over the black bodysuit the Spartans wore everywhere. His sisters joined him in the middle of the room quickly and they waited for Fred.

"So, how did the demonstration go?" Sara asked, still glaring at the Stall Fred was standing in.

"It went well," John answered. "The shields held up under continuous turret fire, and as you can see, are water- and mud-proof." Sara scoffed and eyed the large man warningly. John held up his hands in surrender. "They did work really well, Sara," he said, grinning.

"I felt like I was flying at one point," Kelly sighed, grinning.

"Well, you were," Fred called from his Stall. "I threw you!"

"I meant other than that," Kelly replied loudly. She turned back to Sara. "The tailored suits are a lot more comfortable than our old armor."

"And a hell of a lot more expensive," Sara sighed, grinning slightly. "You can handle much higher-grade stuff than the IVs, and the funding is going towards them now. Which is why I told you to be gentle. If you break something, we might not have the money to fix it."

John frowned. "We're being phased out?" he asked, concerned. Linda and Kelly shifted subtly.

"You've been getting the short end of the stick since the II Program's details went public," Sara pointed out sourly. "Oh, no, child soldiers, like we haven't done _that_ before. Oh, the horror." She grimaced as John raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, John, it's just… Ugh. But anyway, you've been getting phased out since that last big upgrade to the IV armor. They're no match for you one-on-one, but that doesn't matter because there's going to be _hundreds_ of them. There's two hundred already. Expanding the program slowly, like brass is going now, isn't just because of a lack of applicants – we get plenty of those. It's because there's not enough money to train soldiers. We're at peace; gotta rebuild buildings and schools and hospitals and temples, not soldiers and ships."

Sara sighed, crossing her arms. "I'll not lie to you guys," she said softly. "It's getting worse. We've got an operating budget this quarter that's about 5% smaller. Doesn't sound like much, I know, but that 5% comes out of _your_ armor funds, since you've got working armor that's proven in battle and the future of humanity rests on the IV's shoulders now – supposedly. I still think you four are the baddest badasses out there, but then, I'm just a technician." She smirked.

"It'll be alright," Kelly told her with a slight smile. "They can't afford to let us go."

"Not yet," Sara argued pessimistically. She sighed, though, and leaned into the female Spartan's offered arm around the shoulders – their version of a hug. "So, tell me how the course worked out," she requested. They did so eagerly, pointing out what worked with the armor – and how it could be improved.

"My vision's more limited than I like," Linda admitted, holding her hands to either side of her face to effect blinders. "Could you increase the visor's wraparound?"

Sara nodded thoughtfully. "I figured that might be a problem, but a large visor also means a large target for enemy snipers."

"We need to see enemies to kill them," Linda pointed out.

"True enough. We'll work on it."

"Thanks."

"You know what I want," Kelly chuckled.

"Of course: faster response. But honestly, you're about maxed out, Kelly. The human body isn't meant to travel as quickly as you all move sometimes, especially single parts of it. Any faster and your brain simply _can't_ keep up. You'd end up fighting a half-dozen enemies for every one you face."

Kelly hummed thoughtfully and nodded. John didn't have any suggestions – though judging by the glances from his sisters, they knew what he truly wanted in his armor – Cortana. Even after all these years, he still longed to hear her voice through his speakers, feel her icy tickling in the back of his head.

Fred emerged from his Stall, freshly clean, and joined in the conversation. They finished talking two hours later, having made several suggestions and discussed the armor's overall performance before moving on to the topic of the GEN 2 Spartan IV armor.

"Have a good night, guys," Sara called as they headed towards the door. "Do come again." They waved and wished her a good afternoon.

Outside, the sun was high and hot; they shaded their eyes for a minute and spotted the new batch of trainees running through a field with drill instructors on their heels. The trainers were shouting at their charges.

The four Spartan IIs turned towards their Pelican, which was parked on the airfield. They climbed in quickly and Linda took the pilot's seat. She called into the air control tower, received clearance to take off and well-wishes, and powered up the small ship. The flight back to the Spartan's house was quiet, each of the siblings considering what they had learned that day – about their armor, the IV program, and their own status in the UNSC.

The four disembarked on their home base's airfield just as evening fell. Silently, they walked to their house and let themselves in, taking their shoes off in the entry way. After a day back in the "real world" they had known their whole lives, coming home to a very civilian-like house made all four of them edgy.

Kelly practically dragged John down to the basement for some relaxing sparring while Linda disappeared into the kitchen and Fred went upstairs to work on his own projects.

"So, do you think they're trying to retire us by proxy?" Kelly asked as she and John squared off, having set out the mats and warmed up together already.

"Perhaps," John replied, striking for his sister's left side and turning the movement into a smooth punch on her right. She caught the feint, however, and pushed his fist to the side, trying to throw him off balance.

"Elaborate," she ordered as she struck back, a blow aimed for his exposed ribs. John twisted, letting her hand slide over his side instead of into it, and then twisted back, trapping her arm.

"I think Sara's a little too worried about decreasing budgets." John grunted as Kelly managed to land a solid punch to his upper arm, loosening his grip on her wrist and freeing her other arm. "Our armor _is_ battle-tested and much better than the IVs. And, to be honest, they are the future. We're getting older." To punctuate his remark, it seemed, Kelly drove him backwards onto the mat, landing on top of him to keep him from rolling away. "Oof."

"And we haven't done anything truly spectacular in a while," Kelly agreed, grunting as John tried to lift her so he could get away, but she had him thoroughly trapped. "Other than the War Games, and we don't need high-quality armor for _that_."

"Yes, but," John heaved, finally managing to upset his sister's balance and flipped her onto her stomach, rolling away in the same motion, "there's also likely no enemies left that the IVs can't handle. Like Sara said, there are – hey – more of them." John ducked as his sister kicked at his head, rolling to her feet fluidly.

"The Hunters," Kelly pointed out, dodging John's kick and connecting solidly with his fist. She coughed and pushed back, giving herself space to breathe and gather herself, rubbing the sore spot on her chest. "The IVs can't tackle those guys head-on."

"We don't like to, either," John replied, letting his sister catch her breath. "Many of our siblings died because of Hunters."

"I know," Kelly snapped, launching into a furious attack. For a few seconds, they silently punched, dodged, and kicked; John watched his sister carefully for the moment when she was ready to call it quits and simply talk.


	6. Serious Discussions

_And now we get to the primary romance part of the story! Please review!_

**Chapter 6: A Serious Discussion**

"And the Brutes – they're not as big, but they're definitely meaner," Kelly panted as John held her down in a grip that, if he tried, could snap her neck instantly. "And there's always the chance that we face another Promethean horde. You barely survived the one time against them."

"But the Didact is dead," John replied, knowing Kelly had brought up the painful battle to bring home her point. He released her and she rolled to her knees, facing him again. They sat knee-to-knee, hands open in their laps, in a meditation pose that Linda had showed the group after the end of the war.

"As far as we know," Kelly pointed out. "You never brought back his body, or even saw him dead." John opened his mouth to speak, but his sister raised a hand and shook her head, indicating she wasn't done. "And, of course, the Forerunner artifacts we've found are probably only the tip of the iceberg. The Halos, the Ark, Requiem, the Dyson Sphere – if they can manufacture entire planets, who's to say they can't _hide_ entire planets? Not to mention, of course, the Composer." John couldn't help the slight shiver that trailed up his spine at the mention of the fearsome Forerunner weapon.

Kelly noticed it, of course, and softened her features consciously, a silent apology that John accepted. "We need to do something other than occasionally checking on the trainee's progress and visiting schools," Kelly said after a moment of quiet contemplation. John raised an eyebrow. "We're… I don't know, John, we're not soldiers anymore. I don't feel like a soldier anymore."

"What do you feel like?" John asked softly, watching his sister's expression change from confusion to slight embarrassment to anger.

"I feel useless," she said finally. "I feel like a civilian trying to pass for a soldier."

"They are not the same thing."

Kelly eyed him. "They are to me. I'm not… John, _we're_ not built to be like this. We're supposed to be fighting or in cryo sleep."

"Would you like to be frozen until there's a fight?"

Kelly glared at him. "No," she spat. "That's not what I meant, John. Just… Ugh, never mind." Kelly stood but John grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down. Startled, she fell, but her training kicked in and she slid out of his grip, which was loosening anyway.

"Sit down," he ordered. Frowning, Kelly did so, though several centimeters now separated their knees. It was a deliberate separation on her part. "Kelly, we're Spartans – we're not designed for leisure. But we're going to have to cope with the fact that we're aging, we're being replaced, and our value to the UNSC lies more in being figureheads now than in being real soldiers. Linda mentioned she was worried about you-"

Kelly growled; John waited and then continued, not allowing for his sister to interject a word of her own.

"About your adjustment. We've been adjusting well, but she thinks that we've hit a limit. That our emotional and social conditioning is being eroded rapidly. We're going to face consequences. She thinks you already are."

Kelly frowned, shaking her head. "John, I'm not saying that-"

"You're acting like it. We all are. We've made good friends – friends outside of the program, outside of the UNSC. People know us by name and personality, not just number or abilities. They like us for being us, not as Spartans or Demons or even soldiers. And there's backlash from that."

"You meant the emotional conditioning. The social's gone out the window already," Kelly said softly, refusing to meet her brother's eyes.

"Yes, it has – and the emotional is going to go next. We're getting older, Kelly – it's only natural-"

"It's _not_ natural," Kelly argued. "We were trained out of this… This… _Human _need."

"But we are human."

"Barely."

John shook his head. "Don't take our humanity so lightly, Kelly. There are those who… deserved more to be human than many I know." Kelly glanced up, knowing that he was speaking of Cortana; she could see the old pain behind his eyes. It had never gone away, and she didn't expect it to, even if she didn't fully understand his relationship with Cortana.

"I know, John," Kelly said. "But… I don't _want_ those walls to come down."

"If you truly didn't, wouldn't they stay up?" John asked quietly. Kelly looked up, startled; John met her eyes squarely. "I ask you honestly, Kelly – not as your brother or your CO, but as your friend. What are you feeling?"

Kelly stared at him for a long moment before answering: "Mortal." John nodded slightly, waiting for more. "And… Trapped, I guess." She shrugged slightly, her shoulders hunched. "I'm nothing _except_ a Spartan."

"You're a lot more than that," John replied. "You're fast, brilliant, beautiful, talented, and great with the kids. You know when and how to be gentle and firm. You give people courage. You may act tough, but people – especially children – know intrinsically that you will listen to them. People look up to you for more than your speed, Kelly." His sister glanced up, her face betraying the embarrassment she felt as she blushed faintly, highlighting her freckles.

John smiled slightly. He knew that Kelly always preferred to show a tough exterior to talking about her emotions – as did he, as did all Spartans. But sometimes, he could crack through that wall, and he knew that, behind it, lay the same mischievous, caring, cheeky girl he'd known as a boy.

"Be honest with me, Kelly," he told her gently. "And with yourself, most importantly."

"I've been feeling pent-up," Kelly admitted, picking at her pants with one hand. John recognized the gesture from their childhood as one that his sister only displayed when she was very nervous and unsure. "The War Games helped, a little, but then it came back, and it was stronger. It's not… It's not the same as being stuck in a ship. I can go run as far as fast as I can and it doesn't go away." She sighed, frustration overcoming embarrassment. "I don't know _why_, either."

"Is it biological, emotional, spiritual, or physical in origin?" John asked, hoping the question might help Kelly focus her thoughts.

"Emotional, I think. It's not physical, and I'm not a spiritual person… But how would I know the difference between biological and emotional? We've never had problems with the one." John nodded in understanding. Kelly sighed quietly and then eyed him warily. "Why are you asking now?"

"It's becoming more apparent." John shifted slightly as his sister growled. "Don't growl at me."

"Sorry, it's just… This is really uncomfortable." John grinned a bit. "Especially… Well, never mind." Kelly made as if to stand but John stopped her with one hand on her knee.

"Not yet. I'm still not convinced you're 100%. Sit down."

Kelly huffed but obeyed, closing the gap between them. "Aren't you supposed to send me to a shrink when we have problems like this?" she asked, teasing him. "I don't think you're qualified."

"If you would like me to make you an appointment with one of the doctors…" John raised an eyebrow.

"Gods forbid," she drawled. "They'll probably put it down to PTSD and tell brass I'm no longer fit for duty."

John nodded. "See? You'd prefer _I_ talk to you. Besides, it can't be that uncomfortable. I've been with you your entire life, basically. We have no sense of modesty."

"Some things a girl can't talk to a guy about, brother or not," Kelly sighed, eyeing him. "Unless you want to discuss what kind of tampons are best-"

John waved his hand. "If you think I have any knowledge on the subject," he teased, grinning. "But I don't, so you're safe there, at least. If you'd rather talk to Linda, though, I can go find her."

"No, no." Kelly paused, watching him carefully, then shook her head. "See, that's what I'm talking about right there. You've still got that conditioning – any other male and they'd be running for the hills at the mention of tampons. Even Fred's a little nervous when Linda and start chatting like that. Not that I blame him, but still. You're holding onto that conditioning." She frowned, eyes suddenly sharp. "Why are you holding onto it, John?"

John blinked. He hadn't expected to be questioned in turn, but he supposed it was only fair. But knowing it intellectually didn't mean he fully understood it, and he glared slightly before he could control himself and dropped his gaze to the mats. "I have to," he answered quietly. Apparently his tone set off warning bells in Kelly because she scooted closer and leaned against him.

"Why?"

"If I don't… I don't know what will happen." John idly traced out a pattern on the floor mats. Only several strokes later did he realize he was drawing Cortana's code-based body and halted the movement forcefully, pulling his hand back as if burned.

"It's that time again, isn't it?"

"Eight years to the day," John agreed. He'd succeeded in not letting it get under his skin until this morning, when he had woken in a sweat and with a deep sense of loss that he couldn't explain until he'd realized that today was the anniversary of Cortana's death.

"But it's more than that. You get melancholy around this time of the year, which we understand – sorta – but you're still holding onto that conditioning otherwise." John glanced at Kelly silently. "I mean, you open up with the kids, and we love to see that, but otherwise… You're either really emotionally stunted, more so than the rest of us, or you're hanging onto that conditioning tooth and nail, and I want to know why."

It had been eight years. John cleared his throat consciously. Surely he could make her understand the nature of his relationship with Cortana – this time, surely. She never had, and he knew she thought his attachment was entirely unhealthy, but he hoped she could.

"If I let those walls down, Kelly, bad things are going to happen. Cortana and I were almost one person for several years. I can't… If I let that conditioning go, I could suffer – badly. We don't even know what the consequences could be. Imagine half of yourself just – died. I was in a bad place for several months after the Didact."

Kelly nodded slightly. "We'd heard – and we wanted to come help you, but we weren't allowed." She sighed, shaking her head. "Still… John, for all that she was smart, Cortana was still just an AI."

If he'd been a cat, John knew, he'd've hissed. As it was, his ears twitched. "Cortana wasn't just an AI," he replied, putting the strength of his conviction behind his voice. "She was… A lot more than that."

"To you," Kelly agreed. She leaned forward slightly to rest her forehead against his, staring into his eyes, almost as if she could convince him simply be being close enough. "But you've got to let her go. It's unhealthy to keep thinking about her death. Remember what the psychs said about our siblings – remember them in life."

"It's not the same."

"She was your partner just as I have been, and Linda, and Fred, and Sam and everyone else."

"She was more than that."

Kelly reared back, eyes shuttering. She glared at John for a moment; he watched her carefully. He'd never admitted it but – it felt right. Cortana had been more to him than just an AI or even just another partner.

"I see," Kelly murmured softly. "Well, John… In that case…" She stood again; John caught her wrist, shaking his head.

"Kelly," he started – but he had no time to finish because she yanked her hand out of his and dashed up the stairs. He heard Linda exclaim and then Kelly was out the door and it slammed shut behind her. Linda stomped down the stairs, glaring at John.

"What did you _do_?" she asked incredulously.

"What's going on?" Fred called from upstairs.

"John's upset Kelly," Linda yelled back up.

"What? How?"

John sighed, shaking his head.

"Yes, _how_, John?" Linda hissed, eyeing him as Fred also walked down the stairs.

"I was talking to her about what we spoke of," John told Linda, rubbing a hand over his head. "Then she turned the tables on me, and… I think I made her angry."

"She's not angry – well, she is, but that's beside the point. What did you tell her?" Linda sat next to John, watching him carefully as though he was a bomb that might explode. Fred went back upstairs; the door's closing a moment later told John he'd gone after their sister.

"She asked about Cortana," John admitted. "It's-"

"The anniversary, I know," Linda agreed. "What did you say?"

"Kelly said I should honor her death like I do one of our siblings. But I told her that… That Cortana means more to me than that."

Linda sucked in a breath and palmed her face with one hand. "Oh, John," she murmured.

"What?" John asked warily, watching his sister for the same outburst that had driven Kelly away.

"Damn your ignorance. This is what happens when we agree not to get involved." Linda seemed to be muttering to herself; John blinked in confusion. Then she looked up at him. "John. Kelly loves you. She always has."

"And I love her – as I love you, and Fred, and all of our siblings." John wasn't sure exactly where Linda was going with this.

"No, John, I'm not talking about that kind of friendship love. I'm talking about _love_."

"Oh." John felt like he'd been hit with the Composer again – the same tickling ran up his spine and through his chest. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but at least it didn't hurt.

Linda sighed, shaking her head. "Tell me what you two talked about." John quickly made his report, word-for-word in case he was missing something subtly vital. When he finished, Linda grimaced. "She's right, you know – we've all been wondering why you've been holding onto that conditioning so hard. Are you scared of facing her death without those walls? Because you have to, someday. It's not healthy to hold on like that."

Before John could answer, Fred came back and walked downstairs. "Couldn't find her," he said quietly.

"She'll come back when she's ready," Linda replied. She reached out; Fred caught her hand and sat next to her, an arm around her shoulders. Linda leaned into her brother. John watched, his eyes unconsciously narrowing. Linda smiled. "Yes, John. _We_ aren't nearly so tangled up about this. It's only natural to want more than a sibling relationship."

"The rules-"

"We haven't let it get in the way of training or missions," Fred pointed out, his voice slightly defensive.

"How long has this been going on?" John asked, wondering if he was simply blind or if his siblings were a lot more devious than he'd ever guessed.

"Almost a year, now."

_Blind. That's got to be the answer_, John thought to himself, watching his siblings. He'd noticed that they were more comfortable around each other within the past year, but he'd put it down to the same thing that had been happening to him and Kelly: they were all getting used to a more civilian-style soldier's life. But to learn that his brother and sister had engaged in a relationship… John sighed.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"It's not a sexual relationship, John," Linda answered, raising an eyebrow as if he should surely understand what she and Fred were talking about. "It's…" She shrugged, glancing at Fred. "It's just a deeper level of trust and love than I feel for you or Kelly." Fred nodded in agreement and Linda looked back at John. "Kelly wants that with you – but you basically just told her that she can never have that, at least not with you. That's hardly fair, is it? Especially since Cortana is dead – I'm sorry, John, but she is – and Kelly's alive, and there's _no one_ else Kelly could possibly turn to."

John rubbed a hand over his face. _This_ was why such inter-team relationships were strictly forbidden by the UNSC. "I'm not… I'm just not there, Linda," he admitted.

"We know that. Kelly knows that. She's willing to wait for you to come around. I tried nudging you around the other day, but you're just a little too dense for that, apparently." She smiled to show she wasn't trying to insult him. "But you really hurt her tonight. Imagine if you wanted something deeper with her, but she told you that she was already taken, and by a dead guy at that."

"It's not that simple," John protested, still trying to understand why Kelly had decided that she wanted _him._

But Linda shook her head. "To us, it is that simple. We can't even fathom the kind of loss you went through, John. And Kelly doesn't want to think about that. She's… Unfortunately, Kelly is the jealous type."

"But…"

"John, there are no ways out of this. Kelly's too far deep to pull herself out. She thought – we all did – that you just needed time to come to terms with Cortana's death. But now you've basically told her that you're never going to let Cortana go, and she's translated that into "I'll never have you." You're going to have to help her."

"I don't know how," John admitted. "Things were simpler when we were just siblings."

Linda smiled, leaning harder into Fred. "Simpler, yes. Nicer? No. Just wait, John – and trust me when I say that you will not regret it." John nodded hesitantly. "Now, go find Kelly and apologize for hurting her. You don't need to do more than that now, but… Just promise you'll think about it, alright?"

"Alright," John agreed, standing. Fred grinned at him and nodded in encouragement; John headed upstairs. He pulled on his shoes in a half-trance, thinking about where he would find Kelly. He knew her better than anyone – where would she go if she was hurting, bad?

He had his answer within seconds and headed out the back door, closing it gently behind him and facing the woods. There were only a few acres to search, but he thought he knew where his sister had gone and headed in on one of the trails. Half-way through the forest, he spotted what he'd been looking for. Even angry and sad and confused, Kelly had left trail markers so he could find her.

John followed the barest signs – a crushed leaf here, snapped twig there, placed just so – until he came to a short cave, really more of a hollow, with a stream a meter from its opening and saw her sitting inside, her eyes closed. She ignored him until he sat down right in front of her, their knees touching; only then did she crack open one eye to glare at him before shutting it again.

"I'm not going away," John said softly. He wasn't sure what to say, so he went with his gut instinct. Even if his instincts mostly dealt with battlefields – well, wasn't this just another type of fight?

"You might as well," Kelly replied, her voice utterly deadpan. "I'm not speaking to you."

"Then you can't interrupt me," John mused. "So listen. Or not. But I'm going to speak because I think you need to hear this." John took a breath and closed his own eyes, calming his mind. "When Cortana and I first met, I thought she would be a liability. Her personality was completely at odds with my own, and not at all conducive – so I thought – to a battlefield. She was too chipper. I told Dr. Halsey that I didn't think it would work out, but she insisted, saying that our neural connection would be the strongest." John could clearly recall the first time Cortana had merged into his armor, the icy trickle in the back of his head, her voice echoing somehow through his ears _and_ mind. Later, it also echoed through his heart as he came to love her.

"We were supposed to go after a Prophet together – capture one and force the Covenant to agree to a treaty in return for his safety. But with the Fall of Reach, we had to abandon that plan. I was frozen on the _Pillar of Autumn_; Noble Team managed to bring Cortana to me, and the ship jumped. It was a totally random jump, yet we found Installion 04 – the first Halo. We had to land on the surface, and that's when we discovered the Flood." Kelly knew the facts – now she would hear _his_ side of the story.

"Cortana and I, at first, worked alright together. She tended to be chatty, but at least she was able to give me directions and pinpointed survivors at crash sites so we could round them up and get a base together. She was also able to intercept Covenant signals, and that's how we learned about Halo's "weapon" and the Silent Cartographer. She pinpointed the Cartographer and we went in to destroy it – or control it. At the time, we didn't know what the Halos actually did. We thought they might be some sort of giant laser." He smiled slightly and could feel Kelly watching him, though he kept his eyes shut.

"We were the only ones to survive the Halo. I came to rely on Cortana like I rely on a good rifle or my armor – but even more so, because she kept me sane. Whenever I heard of another missing or dead siblings… She would always remind me that we had to keep going, for your sake if nothing else. It was part of her programming, but it was something else, too. We genuinely cared for each other.

"After we got cut off from the rest of the _Forward Unto Dawn_, Cortana sent me into cryosleep and stayed awake to wait for rescue. I slept for four years – she compiled all of the data from the Halos and even wrote upgrades to the software in my armor. When it came time for me to awaken, she was waiting for me – and she hadn't changed a bit, that I saw at first. But then things started happening." He remembered the ghosts of Cortana that had, at first, made him nervous, because he couldn't really feel them.

"She was going rampant. I didn't realize it at first, but after the crash, she started saying things that she never would have said, usually." He remembered the pain in her eyes when he'd confronted her. "AIs live eight years, maximum. She'd been in service for nine, and I'd slept through four." He still remembered the guilt of having left her alone for so long. "I thought… Maybe Dr. Halsey could save her. She had to be able to; she created Cortana, after all. Cortana didn't think so, but she trusted me to save her." John could hear the pain in his own voice; he hadn't spoken of their conversation on the newly-discovered Requiem before, and it still hurt to remember how crisp she had looked, her blue-purple holographic avatar streaked in red as she slowly died.

"But we had to do our duty first, and when we discovered the Didact…" He shook his head a fraction. "I knew we wouldn't get Cortana to Dr. Halsey in time. Either we'd both die trying to kill the Didact or she would die before I could get to Earth. She sacrificed herself, splitting into a hundred copies and depositing them in the Didact's ship to help me save Earth. And when I manually activated the nuclear bomb we'd thought to set on a timer, she saved me by sacrificing herself entirely. I think she used the ship's hardlight to protect me but… I don't really know." John clenched his hands.

"I thought I'd been knocked unconscious – or was dead, it didn't really matter to me at that point – but I kept trying to call her, and she wouldn't answer. And then she was just… there." He smiled, remembering her five-foot-tall hardlight figure. "As big and solid as any human. And I knew she'd never come with me again, but I couldn't accept it. I felt like we'd always had each other's backs. She spun up a body out of hardlight so she could talk to me before she was entirely gone. I still wonder if I didn't hallucinate the whole thing, but… She touched my armor, and I'd never have imagined _that_. But I couldn't bring myself to… To say goodbye, until it was too late and she couldn't have heard it anyway." John could feel the familiar tightness in his throat.

"A Pelican found me and took me back to a ship, where they patched me up and gave me another medal. I don't really remember much of that. But I do remember being utterly alone. She wasn't in my head anymore, or even in the ship. I woke up – when I could sleep, that is – calling her name. I got agitated, angry – I didn't eat, I don't think I drank much, and I know I didn't shower for a least a week. Someone noticed and prescribed PTSD drugs, but they just made it worse. Because then I could sleep, and she was always waiting in my dreams." Kelly stiffened, but John ignored her. Now that he was talking, he found that he couldn't stop.

"Sometimes she'd talk about our missions together, about things we could have done better. Sometimes she'd describe the information she'd taken in about the Halos and the Covenant and the Forerunners, and our history with them. Things I couldn't possibly know except that she lived in my head for years – and there was probably some bleed-over from her data into my brain. Other times, she blamed me for not saving her. Or blamed herself for dying or for leaving me alone. It got to the point where I couldn't bear to sleep because she was _always_ waiting."

"And then you three came back, and for once, I slept and she didn't show up. That's when I truly started missing her, I think. Even as weird as those dreams got, she was still there, part of her stored somehow in my wetware. But then you three came and… I was happy to see you. I had missed you, thought you were dead. But with all of us together again, the dream Cortana never showed up again. She hasn't since that day, either."

John finally opened his eyes and found Kelly watching him warily. They sat in silence for a moment before Kelly whispered, "But she meant a lot to you. More than we do."

"No, Kelly," John replied, realizing what Kelly had thought of his comment earlier. "Our relationship was entirely different. Not better or worse. Just different."

His sister looked up, frowning slightly. "Then why hold onto that emotional conditioning?"

John smiled sadly. "Linda says it's because I'm a coward, and I agree with her. I don't want to face Cortana's death without those walls up. Nor do I want to face everyone else's."

Kelly nodded, looking back down into her lap. "I jumped to conclusions," she admitted after a moment. "Sorry."

John smiled slightly, reaching forward and tilting her head up so she could see that he forgave her. "It's alright. I didn't phrase it well. And… I didn't know what I do now." Kelly was chewing on the skin of her inner cheek, an old habit of hers that had left scars all along the inside of her cheeks and lower lip. "Stop that," he scolded, tapping her cheek. She stuck her tongue out at him, showing a little of her old cheekiness.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, listening to the forest wind down as night approached. "Now, are you ready to go back?" John asked, breaking the silence.

"Not yet." Kelly wiggled further back into the cave, patting the ground next to her. John shifted over and she tentatively leaned against his shoulder. "So, I suppose you found out about Linda and Fred?"

"Yes." John grinned, a little sheepishly. "Am I blind, Kelly, or did they hide it on purpose?"

"Both, I think," she teased before turning serious again. "They didn't want you to find out until they thought you were ready to accept their new relationship. You're a stickler for the rules, John. And they wanted to make sure they could handle it."

"When did you find out?"

"Pretty much at the same time they did."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I agreed with them. Besides, they aren't hurting anyone. It's a good thing. They're… They're really happy together, John. Sure, maybe they might have been happier with someone else, if we'd never been Spartans, but they'd also probably be dead, so…" She shrugged. "We fought for this peace. We should take what happiness we can. If anyone deserves it, we do."

"Before something else crops up," John agreed, throwing an arm around his sister. "What if their relationship doesn't last?"

"They're professional enough to handle working together," Kelly reminded him, scooting closer. The goosebumps along her arms showed that, despite their higher internal temperatures, she was a little chilled by the night air. John, too, found that he enjoyed her body's warmth along his side as the air turned cooler by the minute. "But do you really think it'd break?" Kelly sounded unsure.

"We've seen enough Marines get killed because of lover's quarrels," John reminded her gently. "And not just the pair involved."

"Truth. But… We're not petty. We've got a fifty-year basis of friendship to fall back on if it doesn't work out."

"We, or they?" he asked softly.

"They." But Kelly's voice told John that she was lying.

"We," he corrected, watching a squirrel dash back towards its tree home in the last light of the setting sun.

Kelly sighed, pressing closer. "I don't want to pressure you into anything, John. I know that you need time… To accept things, to come to terms with yourself, with this."

"I probably need some pressure," John admitted. "It's not going to be a comfortable change. You know how much I dislike changing, anyway."

"Then we'll take it slow."

"I didn't know you could do slow."

Kelly chuckled, pushing her brother playfully. John grinned and shoved her back; that, of course, started a wrestling match and they rolled out of the cave. Kelly managed to roll John into the stream, and he gasped as the cold water soaked his clothing. Kelly leapt out of the way when he made to grab her and pull her in as well. She chuckled as he stood up and stepped out of the stream, dripping wet.

"Now we really should get back," he said, shaking out his short hair. "Before I catch a cold."

"Big bad Master Chief with a cold, oh, the horror," Kelly teased, jumping over the stream. She wasn't in arm's reach so John couldn't toss her into the stream as well, but he eyed her nevertheless as he pulled his shirt off.

"If I catch a cold, you'll be responsible," he muttered, wringing out his shirt and then slipping it back on.

"I'm quaking in my nice, warm, dry shoes." Kelly smirked and headed back towards their house. John followed, though she didn't let him get within arm's reach, probably worried that he would grab her and transfer some of the water. That he planned to do so just spoke to how well she knew him.

They trooped inside to a quiet house. Fred was probably upstairs; Linda wasn't in the kitchen, but she had left soup bubbling gently on the stove. Kelly moved to the soup as John headed upstairs to change.

Fred caught sight of him and chuckled. "Kiss and make up?" he asked from the reading room.

"Something like that," John agreed, opening the door to their bedroom and finding a set of dry fatigues. He changed quickly and hung his wet clothing in the bathroom to dry. "Where's Linda?"

"Basement, meditating." Fred beckoned for John to enter the room. "We should talk, man to man. Linda's probably already accosted Kelly."

John glanced downstairs; that warm soup smelled great, and his stomach was reminding him that they hadn't eaten since before leaving for the training fields that morning. "Go get some soup and bring it up," Fred chortled, catching his brother's glance. "I could hear your stomach rumbling as you came in."

"Could not," John muttered, grinning and heading back downstairs. Kelly had left him a bowl of the soup with a spoon, but she wasn't in the kitchen; he glanced towards the basement and faintly heard Linda's voice talking quietly. Fred was right, then. He headed back upstairs.

John sat on the couch facing Fred, and started in on the soup. It was good, warm, hearty stew – chunks of meat, probably beef, with lots of cut-up vegetables – that would put the warmth back in his bones.

Fred rolled his chair around the table he'd been working at and turned it around, sitting down with his arms crossed over the back of the chair as he leaned forward.

"So, how'd it go?" he asked.

"Good," John replied. He took a few seconds to gather his thoughts – and finish his soup – before setting the bowl aside and answering in full. "I did most of the talking, about how Cortana and I worked together." John leaned back in the chair. "Then we talked a bit about you and Linda, and she said we'd take it slowly. Then I got rolled into a stream for starting a wrestling match and we came back. End of story."

Fred nodded slowly. "Sounds good. You may have actually redeemed yourself in Linda's eyes." John eyed his brother, who raised his hands. "Her words, not mine. _She_ thinks you and Kelly are dancing around each other like teenagers with crushes and _wanted_ to lock you in a room until you really did kiss and make up. I talked her out of it."

"I owe you."

Fred grinned. "I'll keep that in mind," he promised.

"So, what now?"

Fred shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't recommend plunging in feet first. It takes some time to get used to. And it really just… develops slowly." He grinned slightly. "There wasn't one morning that I woke up and realized I wanted to have a deeper, more meaningful relationship with Linda. It just kind of happened over the course of a few weeks – mutually. Then we talked about it, realized we were feeling the same thing, and that was that."

John nodded, then frowned a bit. "I haven't even caught you two cuddling or anything. Do you just not do that, or not when we're around?"

"Oh, no, Linda's quite the cuddler," Fred laughed. "She may be a lone wolf on the battlefield, but she's definitely a cuddler. But we only engaged in that part of the relationship when you were gone. And we didn't rub it in Kelly's face, either; it would have just hurt her. So we kept it pretty low-key."

"And we all sleep together, so there's no way you two have been intimate."

Fred nodded. "Actually, if this pairing-off thing works, it might be about time to split up the rooms." He grinned. "Linda and I talk things out, but you and Kelly are definitely more physical when it comes to solving problems."

John rubbed a hand over his face, nodding. "Which room should go?" he asked, looking around the reading room. "I'd like to keep this place." Fred nodded, thinking.

"What if we moved the training gear down to the basement? We could clear out that corner with the old carpet in it. Or we could knock out one of the walls, dig into the ground around us, and build a separate training room."

John nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we don't have to decide now."

"No," Fred agreed, teasingly, "but if you piss Kelly off, Linda and I might just decide to take a nice, long overnight trip somewhere."

John threw a pillow from the couch at his brother, who batted it easily aside.

"See?" Fred laughed. "You attack problems physically."

John snorted. "Do you think Linda's done with Kelly?"

"Missing her already?" John eyed his brother; the teasing was getting a little heavy-handed for his taste. Fred grinned apologetically. "They're probably done. If not, we can always storm the castle anyway."

John nodded in agreement and stood, picking up his bowl. The two men walked down the stairs and then split. John took his dish to the sink to wash it while Fred headed into the basement. He came back up with Linda and Kelly within moments.

"Do you know what night it is?" Kelly sang into the kitchen, poking her head through the doorway.

"No," John lied, flicking water at her. She ignored the droplets.

"It's movie night."

"Really? I could have sworn that was last week." John chuckled at the exasperated sigh from his sister.

"It's a weekly thing, idiot."

"It's not nice to call names, Kelly."

"Gods, you two argue like an old married couple. Enough already! Get your ass in here, John," Fred yelled from the living room.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," John replied loudly, drying his hands on a dish towel. Kelly was still blocking the doorway, so he made a grab for her. Surprisingly, she let him and he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

And promptly banged her head on the doorframe as he walked through.

"Ow!" Kelly rolled off of John's shoulder, rubbing the back of her head. "Thanks, John," she pouted.

John inspected her skull. "You're not bleeding," he told her.

"Not for your lack of trying, bastard."

"John, did you hurt Kelly?" Linda asked, peering over the back of the couch.

"Just physically this time," Kelly replied, hissing as John gently probed along the back of her skull. "Ow, numbnuts."

"You learned that one from Lucy," Fred chuckled.

"Maybe I did," Kelly shot back, slapping John's hand away. "I'm fine, John. Come on. And no more sack of potatoes!"

"Yes, ma'am," John chuckled. They sat on the couch while Fred and Linda claimed the adjoining chairs. Now that their secret was out, they were holding hands as Fred tossed the remote to John.

"I think it's Kelly's turn to choose," Fred commented, settling back into his chair. Linda turned sideways and lifted her legs over the sides of their chairs so that her feet were in Fred's lap and he slowly starting massaging her right foot.

"If you two get any cuter," Kelly growled threateningly, "I'm going to puke. On you."

Linda waved a hand at Kelly, grinning. "It feels so nice, too," she teased, stretching her arms over her head.

"What're we watching tonight?" Fred asked John.

John shrugged slightly, turning on the holographic projector. It was turned to a news station; the woman speaking was one whom the four Spartans knew vaguely from this station. John turned on the guide and scrolled through the listings as the woman reported on the newest celebrity scandal in the City of Angels, Los Angeles. "How's this sound?" he asked, highlighting a movie with a fairly simple synopsis: "Two astronauts discover several anomalies in Earth's history that leads them to more questions than answers in this sci-fi thriller from the 2300s."

"Oh, an oldie. Sounds good," Linda murmured, eyes half-closed. Fred similarly agreed; Kelly scrutinized the synopsis and then nodded.

John started the movie and the lights in the room automatically turned off as the pre-movie credits started rolling. Then he gently grabbed Kelly's knee and pulled her foot into his lap; Kelly protested in surprise with a squeak, but once she saw his intention, she grinned and gave him the other foot.

"You _do_ owe me for smacking my head on the door," she muttered, grinning as she lay down on the rest of the couch.

"What was that about cute and throwing up?" Linda asked, grinning at Kelly.

"I don't remember," she answered primly.

"Hmmmm." All four Spartans turned their attention back to the movie.

All four of them were good at basic massage – they often needed a good rub-down after using the armor for the first few battles – and Kelly slowly melted as John worked on her feet. Once he was done, she returned the favor. They didn't pay much attention to the movie, but the plot was very easy to follow anyway.

The movie ended with everyone but a single heroine dying – rather gruesome deaths, for public viewing, though the Spartans had seen a lot worse – and the four siblings nearly asleep. Linda was the first to stir as the credits rolled, and then only to scoot further into her chair, hugging Fred's calves and feet.

"Time for bed," Fred murmured, grinning. Linda hummed in agreement and let him have his legs back. They stood and headed upstairs; John turned to Kelly.

"Ready to get up?" he asked her teasingly. She flicked the sole of his foot; he swiveled until he could stand up and then offered her a hand and pulled her upright as well.

After turning the projector off, they headed upstairs. Linda and Fred were already in their night clothing – a simple bra and shorts for Linda, a pair of boxers for Fred – and lying in their cots. Kelly and John similarly stripped and John flicked off the lights. They all rolled onto their sides and fell asleep quickly, the soft sound of their breathing filling the room and comforting their neighbors.

And, for the first time since his siblings had returned, John dreamed of Cortana.

"_Well, well, well." _

_John's heart constricted as he turned in the blue-purple room that had featured in many of his worst nightmares. Cortana, as tall and solid as she had been during their last moment together, watched him, a soft smile on her face as she leaned against one of the walls of the prison. _

"_You're looking good, John," she murmured, walking towards him. "Strong, fit, nimble – no one would know you're closing in on sixty years old."_

_John nodded silently, watching her. She pressed a hand to his chest, as she had after destroying the Didact together, but instead of a solid connection, her hand phased right through him. She smiled sadly. "I'm becoming a little less substantial every day," she murmured, withdrawing her hand and looking at her fingers. "Remember when I could touch you?" She didn't add, _when I could kiss you_, but he heard it in her voice anyway. _

"_Yes," John replied softly. _

_She nodded. "It was nice to pretend, wasn't it?"_

"_It was."_

"_But pretend is for children, and you're a Spartan, John, and I'm dead." She smiled again, a soft, tender expression that John had rarely seen on her. "And as much as I enjoyed pretending, it's time for us both to grow up."_

_John nodded slightly, finding himself unable to look at her. _

"_I'm not jealous," she said suddenly. He glanced up; she was staring at a picture of Kelly, which she'd called up out of the floor. "She's beautiful, smart, kind – and most of all, she's alive whereas I'm dead and an AI to boot. You two deserve each other, and I mean that in the best possible way. I'm just sorry I can't be there to tell you this in person. We both know I'm just a figment of your wetware's imagination, a few weird, random neuro signals accessible only by your subconscious mind. But if the real Cortana was here, I think she'd say the same."_

_John nodded, his throat dry. They'd never said it aloud before; they'd never acknowledged that this dream Cortana was simply some weird consequence of such close merging between organic and inorganic life. Saying it aloud, somehow, made him want to hold onto this pseudo-Cortana even more. _

"_At least you won't have to choose between us." She was falsely happy, her smile bright yet plastic. _

"_Will I see you again?" he asked. _

_Cortana simply smiled. "Maybe. I'm always with you, John. Whether or not you keep my chip around, part of me is linked to you permanently. And if you really need me, you know where to find me." She slowly started disappearing; John reached out a hand and for a moment felt the warm, tingly sensation of hardlight as his hand passed over her shoulder. She grasped his hand in both of hers, which were quickly fading yet still felt solid. "I love you. I always have, and I always will."_

"_I'll miss you." It's as close as he can come to returning the sentiment, but she knows him, and she smiles in understanding. _

"_And John?" she said playfully as the rest of her body disappeared, her hands suddenly becoming insubstantial. "Kiss the girl."_

_Then she was gone; John could feel the emptiness in the blue-purple prison cell where before it had been filled with her presence. He slowly knelt, hands on the purple floor. The room started dissolving around him, too, and beyond it was simply darkness. It wasn't a bad sort of darkness but a welcoming one, and he slipped into it quickly. _


	7. A Trip to the School

_Please do review! I'd love to hear what you think of the story. I'm thinking I may be able to rate it a T instead of an M… Thoughts? _

_To Anon Reviewer: I'm not sure about introducing Tom and Lucy yet. I don't think so, but I may explore them a little separately. I don't know yet, though._

**Chapter 7: A Trip to the School**

"Sir, your LZ's cleared," the pilot said over the radio. John grabbed a handle in the Pelican's cargo bay as the hatch opened in front of him and made sure the bag strapped to his armor was secure, as did his siblings. "Just hit the target!"

They were a hundred meters above the school, hovering. John could see the parking lot – it was full of cars, even now, mid-morning on a Friday. The crowds of people below were large enough that he suspected more than the children and their families were attending the occasion.

"Ready?" John asked his siblings, spotting the bright red target spray-painted into the lawn. It had a fifty-meter clearance zone around it. They wouldn't go ten meters off course, but it never hurt to be careful.

"Green," Kelly replied immediately.

"Good to go," Linda and Fred said in chorus.

"See you on the ground." John strode straight off the Pelican's hatch, dropping like a stone. His siblings would follow, and they all knew the drill.

John tapped his thrusters and they slowed his fall considerably. He was almost at terminal speed – and he was thirty meters from the ground. At twenty meters, he turned the booster pack on full, and his armor jerked as his fall slowed. At ten meters, he tapped the forward thrusters slightly. He hit the ground and rolled, coming up to one knee.

Kelly impacted next to his right; she rolled twice and then jumped to her feet. Linda and Fred came down together, rolling smoothly to their feet. John rose as well; they had landed in near-perfect formation, only one meter separating the siblings.

Above, the Pelican roared away, and as the sound of its engines dwindled, John became aware that the crowd watching their descent was cheering. He and his siblings had choreographed their next movements for maximum impact; they strode forward into a single line and snapped to attention only five meters from the closest group of civilians.

"Does anyone else feel like a toy soldier?" Fred joked as he held parade attention.

John grunted an affirmative and lowered his hand. The crowd was only clapping now, so he turned on his loudspeakers and addressed them.

"UNSC Lieutenant Commander Sierra-117 reporting to New Castle Combined Schools," he said over the speakers.

Kelly spoke next, similarly introducing herself, then Fred, and finally Linda. Unlike military parades, the Spartans would not give a demonstration of their ability to march in a straight line or hold flags for hours on end.

Introductions over, John took over again. He gave his usual short speech about the war's ending, the importance of the Sangheili-Human Alliance, and finally, the sacrifice of humanity's soldiers in the past decades of war and strife. Because this was a school filled with young children, he kept the piece short and light, speaking mostly towards a brighter future than he honestly hoped for, at least within the next few years.

"And so you," John finished, "are humanity's future."

The children and their parents clapped politely. One man in the crowd stepped forward. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a white undershirt. Stepping up to John, he offered his hand; John shook it gently. "My name is Charles Smith; I'm the principal of this school. We're honored to have you visit us."

"We're glad to be here," John replied honestly. "Did you have a schedule of events, or would you like ours?"

"If you wouldn't mind, I was thinking of bringing the children out to meet you in groups and release the rest back to class, if that works with you?"

John nodded and Principal Smith turned back to the gathered children. "Alright, everyone! I know we're all excited to meet the Spartans, but we are still in school. If the pre-school classes could stay out here, the rest of you are dismissed – go back to class and you'll be called out by grade once your name appears. As for adults, please wait until we transition between groups. Thank you all!"

The large crowd divided quickly. Teachers yelled for their students by grade and class number, while the smallest children – who had been sitting in front – walked towards the four Spartans.

One of the pre-schoolers split off from the group, racing towards them. "John!" Jonathan cried in greeting, launching himself into the Spartan's chest. "Hi!" Jonathan had gone to school a year earlier than most children due to his precocious nature – and his abundant energy.

"Hello, Jonathan," John chuckled, giving the boy a gentle hug.

"Whatcha gonna talk about? Can I wear your helmet?"

"No," John replied. "We're going to answer any questions you – and your teachers – have. You haven't said hello to Kelly, Fred, and Linda."

With that not-so-subtle reminder, Jonathan launched himself towards Kelly, who caught him with a laugh. "Careful there, little one," she chuckled.

"Hi, Kelly!"

"Hello, Jonathan."

Jonathan leapt next to Linda and then Fred, greeting each of them enthusiastically. By the time he finished, the rest of his classmates had caught up; several of the teachers watched with trepidation as their charge clambered over the Spartans like a personal jungle gym.

"Jonathan, go sit with your classmates," Fred said, setting the child down.

"Awwww…" Jonathan moped, made puppy eyes at John, but went and sat down when John simply shook his head.

Once the group – about forty children, all told – were sitting in a semi-circle around the Spartans, the siblings removed their helmets. "Welcome," Kelly said in greeting, smiling at the children. "I'm glad we could be here today. How is school going?"

Most of the children were too shy to answer, but several of the bolder ones – Jonathan included – answered quickly. "What kind of projects are you working on?" Linda asked when a few mentioned their art projects.

"Making Alphabet Animals," a young girl said loudly.

"Tell them about the Alphabet Animals, Marie," one of the teachers said encouragingly.

The girl stood and wiped her hands on her short blue dress. "Well, there's alligators – that's "A." And beavers for B. And crocodiles for C – crocodiles are kinda like alligators 'cept they've got shorter noses. And dogs and dolphins – I like dolphins – for D, and eagles for E, but I think they should be eels 'cause eels are easy to draw." The Spartans grinned in agreement. "And there's frogs for F, but frogs are yucky." The girl made a face. "And… Uh, goats for G… I think that's as far as we got today, at least in making them. But I can sing the alphabet!"

"Let's all sing the alphabet," another teacher suggested. "Ready, everyone?" They answered eagerly. "Okay, go!" She – and the other teachers – sang along with the children.

"_A is for alligator, snap, snap, snap! B is for beaver, chew chew chew! C is for crocodile, chomp, chomp, chomp! D is for dog, bark, bark, bark! E is for eagle, caw, caw, caw! F is for frog, ribbit, ribbit, ribbit! G is for goat, bleat, bleat, bleat! H is for horse, neigh, neigh, neigh! I is for indri, hum, hum, hum! J is for jaguar, climb, climb, climb! K is for kangaroo, hop, hop, hop! L is for lion, rawr, rawr, rawr! M is for moose, stomp, stomp, stomp! N is for nuthatch, scree, scree, scree! O is for octopus, blub, blub, blub! P is for penguin, ort, ort, ort! Q is for quail, peep, peep, peep! R is for roach, eek, eek, eek! S is for snake, hiss, hiss, hiss! T is for tiger, purr, purr, purr! U is for urchin, cling, cling, cling! V is for vulture, circle, circle, circle! X is for xantus, hum, hum, hum! Y is for yak, moo, moo, moo! Z is for zebra, whinny, whinny, whinny!"_

All finished, the children beamed and the Spartans clapped politely. "That was lovely," Linda told the children. "Have you been to a zoo and seen all these animals?"

Several of the children nodded. "We saw lions and tigers and bears and owls and all sorts of mam… mam… mammies!"

"Mammals," a teacher corrected the boy.

"Mammals are furry animals that have live babies and nurse their young," another boy proudly told the Spartans. "We're mammals! But we aren't furry." He pouted.

"What about your other classes?" John asked, tucking his helmet under his head.

"We're learning math in math!" a girl piped up. "See?" She proudly held up both hands, three fingers curled into a fist on her left hand. "Five plus two is seven! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!" The girl counted her fingers by wiggling them.

"And about our senses! We're working on sound right now," Jonathan said. "We're reading "Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear?" in class together."

"And what does the polar bear hear?" Fred asked, grinning.

"All sorts of stuff. The cows mooing, the crows cawing, the fish splashing, the snow falling, the ocean waves waving, the ice cracking…" Jonathan giggled. "But the polar bear would eat the cows if he could hear them mooing!"

"Probably," Linda agreed. "But he might be a vegetarian polar bear."

"Ewwww," several of the kids groans. "Veggies are gross!" The teachers smiled patiently.

"But you have to eat your vegetables," John said, affecting surprise in his voice.

"Why?" a few children asked suspiciously.

"Because otherwise you could never grow up to be big and strong," Linda answered. "We all ate _our_ veggies as kids, and look at us now!"

Several of the kids frowned thoughtfully; the teachers smiled in appreciation. "They're right," a smaller old lady said kindly, smiling at her charges. "I didn't eat _my_ veggies, and look how short I am now!" Most of the children giggled.

"What about broccoli?" one of the boys whined. "Do we _have_ to eat broccoli?"

"If your parents say so," Fred answered with a nod. "But if you _really_ don't like it, ask for veggies you do like. What kind of vegetables _do_ you like?"

"Carrots!"

"Celery!"

"Apples!"

"Apples aren't a veggie, stupid!"

"Hey," John said immediately, stalling the argument in its tracks. "Don't call each other stupid." He looked at the boy who had yelled the insult, who blushed and looked down. "Apologize to your classmate."

"Sorry," the boy muttered.

"How would you correct your fellow classmate _without_ hurting their feelings?" Kelly asked the group at large.

"Um…" They traded bewildered looks. As young as they were, they often didn't correct each other. Jonathan raised his hand.

"Yes, Jonathan?"

The boy turned to the girl who had called out apples and said in a gentle voice, "Apples aren't veggies, Matilda – they're fruits, 'cause they grow from trees and have seeds in them! Veggies grow on small plants or underground." He beamed at the girl, who smiled shyly back.

Several of the adults praised Jonathan, including Kelly.

"How about everyone's favorite fruit?" Linda asked the group.

"Apples!" the girl yelled immediately. Everyone chuckled.

"Oranges!"

"Dragon fruit!"

About half of the children looked at the last speaker in confusion. "What's dragon fruit?" one of them asked curiously.

"It's a yummy white fruit," the child answered. His sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes made him look like a miniature stereotypical "surfer dude." "Mommy can only get it sometimes 'cause it's rare, but it's really good!"

John caught sight of Principal Smith heading towards them; the man raised a hand and spread out two fingers. The Spartan nodded in understanding; they had two more minutes.

"Alright, everyone," he said, addressing the group. "Before you go back to class, does anyone have any questions for us?"

One girl raised her hand first, though others quickly followed. They wouldn't be able to get through all of them, but Kelly nodded for the girl to ask her question.

"My daddy says you guys are heroes." She seemed content with that statement and grinned happily.

Kelly smiled. "Thank you – and thank your daddy. There were many heroes in the war, not just us." She nodded for another boy to ask a question.

"Can we be Spartans some day?" he asked eagerly, bouncing on his rear.

"If you eat your vegetables," Kelly replied, grinning. The children giggled.

"Maybe someday," Linda answered more seriously. "But for now, you have to stay in school and get good grades – the Spartan program only takes the brightest Marines." The boy wiggled happily.

"Why is your armor green? The IVs are rainbow-colored!"

"When our armor was made, it was supposed to blend into forests," Fred answered. "Besides, I like green – it's my favorite color. The IVs get different colors because they asked for them." It was a simplification – the IVs got colors to tell them apart from each other and apart from the IIs and IIIs.

"Alright, children, that's all we have time for today," Principal Smith said, coming up from behind the group. "Thank the Spartans, please." The children sang out in gratitude; Jonathan jumped up and ran towards John again, but one of his teachers caught him deftly.

"Hey!" Jonathan protested, struggling. The woman who had him by the midsection glanced at the Spartans; Kelly nodded in permission and she set the child down. Jonathan ran to Kelly first, who picked him up and ruffled his hair. "Thanks for coming to visit," Jonathan giggled, hugging the woman's head.

"You're welcome, Jonathan," Kelly replied, tickling him gently. "Now, be good in school today – and tell your dad we accept his invitation when you get home this afternoon, alright?"

"You're coming with us?" Jonathan asked excitedly, in the process of hugging Fred.

"Yep, munchkin," Linda replied, accepting – and returning – her own farewell hug. "We've put in the paperwork, at least, and I don't think it'll be denied."

"Yay!" Jonathan yelled, leaping onto John's shoulders from Linda. He hugged the Spartan quickly. "Can I have your helmet?" he asked cheekily, reaching for the armor piece.

"No, Jonathan," the man chuckled, setting the boy down and crouching. "It's time to go back to class, kiddo."

"Bye!" Jonathan hugged John once more and then turned and ran towards his group, which was already half-way to the school.

Principal Smith had watched the interaction with a raised eyebrow. "You know Jonathan?" he asked curiously.

John nodded, standing. "His father, Lord Hood, is a good friend of ours," he said by way of explanation. "We babysit all three of them sometimes." This clearly shocked the man, who frowned slightly and then turned abruptly towards where a group of adults – non-parents, likely – were waiting. He beckoned them closer and they came forward quickly.

The Spartans split up, answering questions – mostly about the political atmosphere in the UNSC, the Spartan IV program, and rumors of increased pirate activity around newly-established human colonies – and shaking hands. They only had five minutes before Principal Smith shooed the adults away and the kindergarteners appeared in their place.

John and his siblings repeated the process with the younger students until the third graders arrived. Lucy led the pack and dashed around one of the teachers to greet the Spartans with a squeal of happiness and enthusiastic hugs for all four of them.

"I _told_ you I know the Spartans," she yelled at a few of her classmates from where she was sitting on Kelly's shoulder. "I'm not a liar!"

Several of the third-grade girls watched with anxious gazes; Kelly murmured quietly to Lucy until the girl relented and sighed. She hugged Kelly once more around the neck and then let the Spartan put her down so she could sit with the group.

One of the teachers motioned for John and the pair walked a few paces away from the group as Kelly, Linda, and Fred introduced themselves to the group. "We've had a problem with rumors," the teacher said quietly once they were out of immediate earshot. "And lying – and, well, most of us though Lucy was lying when she said she knew you all, and she's been bullied a bit because of it. We're a strict no-bullying school, but we can't stop everything. Do you think you could talk a bit about bullying and lying and spreading rumors?"

John nodded. "I can understand why you wouldn't believe her," he told her quietly, "but she does tend to brag, which can make enemies of her classmates."

"Exactly," the teacher sighed, relieved that the man understood the situation.

"We'll handle it," he promised. He turned back to his siblings, caught Fred's eye, and signaled the situation briefly. The Spartan nodded, nudged Linda, and conveyed the message quietly. Linda passed it on to Kelly. John turned back to the teacher. "We've handled this sort of thing before, but never so young."

"I think children are more vicious when they're young – they haven't learned manners and their importance yet." John nodded thoughtfully and followed the woman back to the group.

The four Spartans arranged themselves in an arc in front of the children. Lucy, sitting in the front row, beamed proudly at her Spartan friends.

Knowing his siblings had taken care of the usual greetings, asking how their school day was going and what they were working on, John launched immediately into the scripted anti-bullying speech he'd been given on the first school assignment. His siblings, knowing their parts just as well, chimed in right on cue.

"Your teacher tells me there's been some bullying and lying – and bragging – going on in your class recently," John began, pitching his voice to sound both gentle and firm. "I'm sure you've been told that you shouldn't bully people, and that lying is a bad thing, but can anyone tell me _why _these things are not allowed?"

The children looked at each other in confusion. When no one offered a suggestion, Kelly spoke. "It's because bullying and lying are not nice, right?" she asked. The children nodded tentatively in agreement. "You wouldn't like it if someone pushed you in the hallway, or yelled at you, or took your things, would you?" The group nodded again.

"And you wouldn't like it if your friend told you something that wasn't true and you ended up looking foolish, huh?" Linda asked, smiling slightly. The children agreed more fervently this time.

"And no one likes it when people say they're better than everyone else because they can do something," Fred added. The children nodded even more, some even agreeing verbally.

"What do you do when someone tells you a lie that you _know_ is a lie?" John asked the group. They looked between each other hesitantly and then one girl – a yellow-haired child – raised her hand tentatively. "Yes?"

"You tell a teacher?" she replied uncertainly.

"That's good," Kelly agreed. "What do you tell the teacher?"

"That someone told you something that wasn't true?"

"What if the teacher thinks it's true?"

"Then prove it isn't!" Lucy replied before the shy girl could answer.

"Lucy, we don't speak out of turn," Linda told the girl without looking at her. Lucy blushed in embarrassment – and a little anger. "Go on," the Spartan encouraged the yellow-haired girl.

"Then you tell them why you think it's a lie," the girl answered quietly.

"Very good. What if you're not sure if something is the truth?"

"Ask a teacher," another boy said quickly after raising his hand. "Like when my mommy said evolution was just a government constipation!"

The children around him giggled and he blinked in confusion as the teachers fought down snorts of laughter. "Conspiracy, George," a kind young woman corrected him. The boy blushed and hung his head. "But good example. If you're not sure if something is the truth, ask someone who could tell you – and if we don't know, we'll tell you to look it up yourselves and tell us what you found out."

"But you know everything!" several of the kids protested.

The teachers grinned and chortled. "If I knew everything," one of the men said, "I would be rich!" Several of the children giggled in agreement.

Fred called them back on track. "And what do we do if we thought someone was lying and it turns out they weren't?" he asked.

This time, Lucy raised her hand – Linda nodded to her. "Say you're sorry," she said firmly. "'Cause it's not nice to call someone a liar."

"Very good, Lucy," Kelly replied, smiling. "Does anyone have any questions about truths and lies?" The children shook their heads. "Good, then we're going to play a short game. Can I have a volunteer?" Most of the children raised their hands. Kelly chose a young boy from the edge of the group; he trotted up to the center quickly, grinning widely. She leaned down to whisper the instructions in his ear; he nodded happily and turned to the group.

"Sam is going to say three things. Two of them are true; one is a lie. You will get to choose which is the lie. If you're right, you get a prize." Kelly nodded to Sam, who wiggled slightly in excitement.

"Okay!" he said, looking at his classmates. "My name is Sam. I'm in third grade. I love reading more than anything else in the world."

Immediately, children's hands shot up; Kelly picked one at random and he yelled, "The third is a lie! You hate to read!" Sam nodded, grinning. Kelly plucked a piece of candy from her backpack at her feet and handed it to Sam and then gently tossed the other boy a piece of candy as well.

"That one was easy," Kelly told the group. "Who wants to volunteer next?"

They played three more rounds. Each child would get a piece of candy eventually – the Spartans were always careful to ensure no one was left out – but only half of them had candy by the end of the game.

"Next, we're going to talk about bullying," Fred said. Several of the candy-less children frowned unhappily. "And you'll all get a piece of candy before we're done." That cheered them up.

"Can you name some things that are bullying?" John asked the group.

"Pushing," one of the children said.

"Kicking or hitting someone," another answered.

"Saying mean things that aren't true!"

"Or that are!"

"Good," Kelly said when no one else spoke for a moment. "What about more subtle things?" The children frowned in confusion. "Leaving a person out of a game, or talking about them behind their back," the woman explained. The children tilted their heads in confusion, but some of them were nodding eagerly. "Taking something that you know another person wants simply because you don't want them to have it."

"Like when you don't get picked for soccer or dodge ball," a shy girl murmured.

"Exactly," Kelly agreed. "Or being pressured to do something you don't want to. Bullying is never okay, not even if someone is bullying you first. What do you do if you're being bullied?"

"Tell an adult," one of the girls answered immediately.

"That's the textbook version, yes," Linda agreed, startling the students – and many of the teachers as well. "But what if you can't prove it's bullying? What if they're just pushing by you in the hall, but it happens all the time? Or if they're saying things behind your back? Your teachers can't be everywhere."

"You fight them!" Lucy answered, grinning triumphantly.

"No, Lucy, you don't fight them," Fred told her. "Fighting a bully only makes the bullying worse."

"So, does anyone know how to stand up to a bully?" The children shook their heads. Linda smiled. "Unfortunately, bullies are very relentless, and attacking the problem head-on usually just makes it worse. But I do know of some things that can help. If someone is picking on you, stay with a group of your friends all the time, or stay near a teacher whenever you can. If you're lonely, find and make friends who are older or younger than you are – you don't _have_ to only be friends with your classmates. If you're hurt because of something someone did or said, talk to a teacher, a friend, a parent, or another classmate."

"It's hard to do," John admitted. "But the only way the bully wins is if you let them – or if you get so angry or scared or lonely that you start bullying others."

Principal Smith appeared on the edge of the group again; he flashed the two-minute warning as usual and John nodded to show he'd seen it. "We're almost out of time, but before we open the floor for questions, I want to remind you all that bragging is another form of bullying. It's not nice to hear someone brag about something, is it?" Everyone nodded; Lucy blushed slightly. "Alright, good. Now, questions?"

While the children asked a few questions, Linda and Fred carefully tossed candy to the children who hadn't received it yet. Their aim was spot-on so that even the clumsiest of children had the candy fall right into their laps.

"Alright, everyone, say thank you and goodbye," Principal Smith ordered when the two minutes were up. The children complied eagerly.

The rest of the classes came out to meet the Spartans. Kade, in the eighth grade and the oldest group in the school, greeted the Spartans calmly by name and after their session was over, separated from the group to ask Fred if they were coming to Kalgarro with the Hoods. They told him that they had put in for leave and he smiled happily before rejoining the class as it headed back inside.

The school day was nearly over by then; they had taken a break for lunch, which the Spartans ate on the lawn surrounded by several teachers on their own lunch break, and spent closer to forty-five minutes with the older groups as opposed to ten or twenty with the younger.

The eighth graders filed back into the building just as the bell rang to release the students. The Spartans split up on the front lawn, letting the children come to them as they chose.

Jonathan climbed onto John's shoulder and sat there happily as the man talked to students. Lucy stuck with Kelly, while Kade shadowed Fred.

"There you are!" Wendy called, seeing her youngest child on the Spartan's shoulder. "Jonathan, you were supposed to meet me in the lobby," she scolded.

"But I'm with John," the boy protested, hugging the man's head.

"We have a meeting with your teacher, youngling," she replied. "Hello, John."

"Hello, Wendy," John replied, handing her Jonathan. The boy tried to cling to the Spartan but John gently detached him. "How has your day been?"

"Oh, well enough. Some interesting cases came through the clinic today, nothing major but still interesting." She grinned and positioned Jonathan on her hip. "What about you?"

John waved at the school. "Lots of anti-bullying speeches for the younglings and talks about the future for the older kids," he answered, smiling.

"Oh, good. Lucy's been having some trouble with bullies recently." John nodded. "Where is she? She was supposed to meet me, too."

"She's with Kelly." John turned to catch sight of his sister and whistled a three-note tune; she glanced at him and he pointed to Wendy. Nodding in understanding, Kelly crouched for a moment, likely speaking to Lucy, and then straightened again. Lucy ran up a moment later.

"Here I am!" she said proudly, hugging her mother around the waist.

"Alright. John, have a good day – and say hi to your siblings for me, okay? I've got to run."

John nodded and waved in farewell. He turned to the next child, a boy of fourteen, waiting patiently for his attention.

Slowly, the lawn emptied as parents gathered up their children and buses departed from their stations, taking students home. John and his siblings gathered again; Wendy had come to say goodbye and collect Kade after her meeting with Jonathan's teacher.

"Thank you again for your time," Principal Smith told the group, shaking their hands. "I'm sure the children appreciated it."

"You're welcome," John replied for all four of them. "Thank you for having us."

The principal nodded and strode back into the building. The four Spartans gathered up their backpacks – now empty of candy and small toys – and headed for the parking lot. Now that it was empty, the Pelican could actually land.

Their pilot answered their radio call quickly as he had been loitering fifteen minutes away, parked in a large unused field cleared for that purpose. He picked them up quickly and they rode silently back to their house.

_~~HALO~~_

The next day was a Saturday, which was generally a slow day for the Spartans unless they had the children over. Lucy, Kade, and Jonathan were spending the day at home with Wendy and Terry, however. The Spartans woke late – at 0700 – and lazed about getting breakfast.

John checked the fridge terminal for notices and found a message from PERSCOM. He had an appointment with Commander Kai at 0900 hours.

"Huh," Kelly grunted, spotting the summons over his shoulder. "What does PERSCOM want with us?"

"Maybe it's about our leave request," Fred suggested, pouring milk over his cereal. His siblings nodded uncertainly; they were more used to dealing with Naval Special Weapons. Being property of the UNSC, while still being human and therefore entitled to human liberties and necessities, had caused paperwork mistakes for the Spartans in the past, so they dealt almost exclusively with NavSpecWep to minimize such errors.

"There's a message from them, too, speak of the devil," Linda said, shooing John away from the fridge to get her special yogurt out for her own breakfast. She glanced through it. "They're sending you to Commander Kai since this is something they're not equipped to handle – basically. There's the usual politics, but I get the feeling they just don't want to deal with it."

John nodded, sitting down at the breakfast bar on a stool. He gently smacked Kelly's questing hand away from his bowl of dry cereal; she glared at him but went to get her own food.

"I'll have to take the Pelican, then," John told the group.

"You should leave soon, too, just in case," Fred added. "Commander Kai's a busy man, 'specially with the holidays coming up soon."

"Then it's a good thing we put in early," Linda agreed, sitting next to her brother.

John ate quickly and then went upstairs to shower and pull on his dress uniform. It never hurt to wear it to an official UNSC meeting. He only put on a few of the medals in his carefully-sorted box, those for rank and a couple of the smaller ones, since the full load would weigh down the shirt front and wrinkle the shoulders.

Then he headed downstairs – all three of his siblings wolf-whistled teasingly and he ignored them – and pulled on his highly-polished dress shoes. Then he grabbed the ignition chip for the Pelican and headed out the door. It was a quick walk to the air field, and once there, he climbed into the Pelican's pilot seat and radioed into the tower for permission to take off. They granted it quickly and he was off within minutes.

The flight to Commander Kai's base, on the coast, only took an hour and a half, leaving John fifteen minutes after landing to make his way to the commander's office. The secretary greeted him and said that the commander was running a little late; he took a seat in the lobby and watched men and women walk quickly into and out of hallways branching off of the large room. Most of them noticed him, did a double-take, and then continued on their way, sometimes shooting a glance back over their shoulders.

Finally, the secretary called John back and sent him down one of the hallways. He found Commander Kai's office by reading the plaque on the wall and knocked; someone inside called, "Enter!" and he opened the door.

John came to strict attention and saluted the man sitting behind the desk. The local head of PERSCOM, Commander Kai, nodded towards a seat. "I received your paperwork," he said quickly, cutting to the chase. "I admit, I'm rather surprised – and technically, you know, you belong to NavSpecWep, so I can't really grant you leave."

"They directed me to you, Commander," John replied, nodding in understanding as he sat down. "Since you are in charge of the personnel and this is a human request, not a Spartan one. They said you could clear it or not as you choose – they won't interfere unless you try to retire us."

Commander Kai grinned, nodding. "Well, the paperwork's in order – and I'll be damned before I stand between you four and some peace and quiet. I'll send over the official notice as soon as I can, but you're cleared to leave whenever you like. Just let me know, when you can, how long you'll be gone so I can make arrangements."

"Yes, sir," John replied.

"Have a good vacation," the commander said, standing and offering the Spartan a hand; John shook it as he stood. "Let us know how Kalgarro's coming along – on the down low." John nodded in understanding and headed back home.


	8. Spartan Ballet

**Chapter 8: Spartan Ballet**

The Spartans spent a couple of weeks in routine training, visitations with the Hood children and public institutions, and lounging around the house – well, not really lounging. They tore out a basement wall after checking with several contractors and built a secondary weight training room, moving the gear down there and setting up the old room as Linda and Fred's bedroom. The four now slept in pairs, which suited them as Linda and Fred explored the extent of their relationship and Kelly and John tried to figure out how to start theirs.

The doorbell to the house rang at 1400 hours one afternoon four weeks after receiving permission for leave. John, closest the door, stood up to answer it, but Kelly dragged him back down and then jumped over the couch to get it instead.

With more force than absolutely necessary, she yanked the door open and then invited the person in, leading him into the living room where the other three Spartans were sprawled; John and Linda were reading while Fred was working on his latest manuscript.

"Ensign Kai," John said in greeting. Son of Commander Kai, Derek T. Kai was a brilliant up-and-coming officer, though he had a mischievous streak that many thought would bar him from the upper ranks. That suited the down-to-earth Ensign just fine, thank you very much. He had dark brown hair and brown eyes with a proud chin, inherited from his father, and high cheekbones, supposedly from his mother's side of the family.

"Commander," Derek replied merrily, dipping his head in greeting. "LT, Master Chiefs." He technically outranked Kelly and Linda, but since he was clearly there on a personal visit, they didn't salute.

"Take a seat," John offered, waving to one of the armchairs. "What can we do for you?"

"Do I have to have a reason to visit?" Derek teased. The Spartans shrugged in unison.

"People usually do," Linda pointed out.

"I'm wounded," Derek pouted. "Can't I just come to enjoy your company?"

"What company we are is silent and focused," John warned, nodding to where Fred was already back at work on his writing.

Derek chuckled. "Alright, well, I will admit I'm here for a reason. Actually, a couple of reasons."

"Which are?" John asked, setting his book aside for the moment.

"First, I heard from Dad that you're going on vacation?"

John nodded. "Something of the sort, yes. We'll be guards for the Hoods on their way to Kalgarro."

"Oh, I see. That makes much more sense than the rumors."

"What rumors?" Linda asked carefully.

"What _isn't_ a rumor about you four?" Derek retorted, grinning. "I've heard everything from "Kalgarro's going to be attacked" to "UNSC wants to retire them." People come to _me_ thinking Dad told me anything!" he whined. "So," he chirped, perking up again, "I figured I'd come ask you all and set the rumors straight."

"Why must every little thing we do be gossip food?" Fred asked over the lid of his laptop.

"Because you're celebrities, duh."

"And the other reason?" John asked quickly before Fred could retort.

"Well, me and some of the others on the base were looking at some of the videos of battles from the Covenant War and were looking at how well you all function in zero-gee environments. And we were wondering if you could teach us how."

John hummed thoughtfully. "We were all trained in zero-gee, just like any soldier," he admitted. "But none of us were specialists."

"Li was the best," Linda added, nodding. "He practically lived for zero-gee engagements."

"Still, you're much better than anyone I've seen, and the trainers admit that they can't reproduce the techniques used to teach you."

"Well, first," Kelly said, "you'd need to learn how to move without friction. _Then_ you add in zero-gee."

Derek blinked, tilting his head. "How do you move without friction?"

"Spa-"

"No!" Linda barked, throwing her book at Kelly, who ducked it easily. "No – none of that!"

"Linda's upset because she used to be the target during our training," Kelly sniggered, dodging John's book, which Linda had snatched to throw at her sister as well. John protested wordlessly and grabbed the book as it sailed past.

"I'm lost," Derek admitted, looking at Fred hopefully.

"What Kelly is trying to say," Fred started, but he clapped his mouth shut when Linda whirled to glare fiercely at him.

"Spartan Ballet!" Kelly crowed as soon as Linda's attention was off her. Derek's jaw dropped as Linda tackled her sister, upsetting the couch she and John were sitting on. John quickly jumped up and out of the way as the pair tussled.

"Watch the lamp!" Fred yelled. John snatched said lamp out of the way before the two women crashed into the stand it had been sitting on.

Watching two Spartans wrestle was something of a spectacle, and Derek wondered idly if he, too, should move. But Kelly got the upper hand, slammed her sister onto the carpeted floor with a bang that made Derek wince, and then sat on her.

"We are not doing Spartan Ballet," Linda growled from under Kelly.

"Oh, come on, Xmas," Kelly said teasingly, peering down between her knees at her sister. "It'll be fun."

"No, it won't. I'll be the target, and I'm going to come home _covered_ in oil, and it _doesn't wash out_. John, a little backup here?"

John raised his hands. "I'm not getting involved in this."

Derek was trying to decide if he should be curious or worried that Linda seemed ready to kill someone. "Uh, could someone explain…?" he asked in the relative quiet.

"Spartan Ballet," Fred said, grinning at Linda apologetically, "is a test of balance and poise. We'd need an ice rink and a _lot _of oil."

"What are you planning on doing?"

"You cover the ice in oil and you have almost no friction. Then you put Spartans on it and tell them that at least half of them have to get from point A to point B," Kelly snickered.

"Jesus."

"Which is why small little Linda always got to be the first "ball" – we'd toss her around first to get used to the motion. You throw her this way, you go the other way." Kelly demonstrated with her hands. "You throw over the smaller children, because the bigger kids have more staying power, yeah?"

"It's just physics," Derek realized, nodding. "Momentum."

"Exactly," Kelly agreed. "And a little kid hitting a bigger one doesn't make for a very big displacement, so you don't have to recalculate as much. But if you tossed the big kids around, we'd be hitting the edges of the rink, and that's not allowed."

"Sounds painful. What if you fall down?"

Kelly smirked. "You _try_ to get back up. It's kind of hard once you're covered in oil."

"That sounds like a lot of fun," Derek said tentatively after thinking it over a few minutes. "And educational. Though I don't think it'd have real-world applications because it's a frictionless environment with gravity."

"It teaches you how to use other people – or corpses or debris – to move about in zero-gee environments," Fred explained. "It's also a team-building activity. And honestly, I think the trainers needed a break and figured we couldn't do anything bad to _them_ if we were trying to get off of oil-covered ice in the middle of nowhere."

"If I could get the icerink and oil – regular vegetable oil? – would you give us a demonstration?"

Linda groaned but Kelly nodded enthusiastically. "It doesn't have to be ice," she added thoughtfully. "It could be a plastic sheet laid over smooth ground, like an indoor gym."

Derek hummed. "I think we could do that." He stood and shook John's and Fred's hands, then offered a hand to Kelly and Linda. Despite their position, both shook his hand and wished him a good day, though Linda glared at him for suggesting the game.

"It'll be fun," Kelly told Linda as Derek let himself out. "You'll see."

"I'm coming home with bruises," Linda griped. Kelly let her up and she went back to sitting against Fred's legs. Fred ruffled her hair reassuringly.

"We could play a two-on-two game," Kelly suggested as she dusted herself off and set the couch upright again. "John and I against you two. We could set up goals on either side and get a ball or a puck or something – kind of like frictionless soccer."

"That would make it appealing to the soldiers," John agreed, setting the lamp back down on its stand. "It'd be more game-like than what we did."

"And more fun."

John nodded and sat back down on the couch. Kelly flopped down, curling her legs under her, and took up her own abandoned book. The four went back to their reading and writing quietly.

_~~HALO~~_

None of the Spartans had counted on the popularity of the "game" – nor on Derek's mentioning it to everyone on the base. Within twenty-four hours, requests flooded into the bases' PERSCOM offices as soldiers from around Earth heard about the spectacle. Derek came to tell the Spartans to expect a crowd, but as the four entered the indoor gym that had been turned over to their use, they weren't ready for the absolute _mob_ that was waiting.

Derek had originally planned to use a plastic sheet, but it tore too easily, so he had, with the permission of the base trainers, turned the indoor gym into an ice rink. Special cooling units kept the interior chilly enough to prevent the ice from melting. Pounded into the ice were barriers to keep the pool of oil from escaping into the "fan section," which housed both the actual fans and the soldiers who had come to watch.

Said soldiers were perched on bleachers and the place was packed. John, leading the group in, paused for a moment as a wall of cheers overwhelmed him.

"Jeez," he heard Kelly mutter behind him, setting down her rucksack. "I didn't think it'd be _this_ crowded…" She glared at Derek, who trotted over grinning like a fool.

"This is going to be awesome," he crowed, waving to the audience. "I think word got out, though." He winked at the Spartans, handed John a thick, heavy ball, and then trotted away again.

"Alright," John told his siblings, holding the ball under one arm. "Let's suit up and see if we remember basic training."

"We're going to look like idiots," Linda griped, clamping a beanie over her head firmly. They'd all worn fatigues they could afford to toss, since oil didn't wash out in large quantities. Kelly slipped on a beanie to match Linda's, except that hers was blue where Linda's was red. John and Fred had blue and red beanies respectively.

Then Kelly and John slid on their blue vests that would differentiate them from Fred and Linda, who were wearing red vests already, on the "court." Stowing their bags under one of the bleachers, John led the way to the edge of the oil-filled pit and looked over it.

It was a simple rectangle, measuring ten meters by fifteen meters. The oil over the ice glistened with the promise of a frictionless environment. Each end of the rectangle housed a hockey goal, a movable target that had been nailed into the ice for this game.

"Ladies first," Fred teased, bowing to Linda. Glaring at him, Linda grabbed onto his shoulder and carefully stepped into the pool of oil. It squished under her boots and she grimaced unhappily. Then she braced and brought her other foot in and pushed off of Fred, gliding smoothly towards the blue end of the court.

Kelly hopped up more quickly, slipping for a second before regaining her balance and shoving off of John towards their end. Fred climbed in next, followed by John, and then the two pushed off each other to get to their ends of the rink.

John still had the ball and made sure to hold onto it, unwilling to let it get coated in oil just yet. He slid into Kelly, who was braced for the impact and their combined weight slowed them until a chink in the ice let Kelly halt their movement. Then John swung to her left so they faced Linda and Fred, who were similarly lined up.

"Alright, quiet down!" Derek called through the indoor gym's speakers. The crowd slowly hushed. "Welcome to Spartan Ballet, ladies and gentlemen!" The mob cheered and then quieted again. "On Blue Team, Commander John-117 and Master Chief Kelly-087!" John and Kelly waved. "On Red Team, LT Fred-104 and Master Chief Linda-058. The rules are simple. You cannot leave the oil field. Each time the ball passes into your net, the other team scores a point! First to five points wins – or if we run out of time, highest score wins. This is a contact sport! Ready?" The four Spartans raised their fists in salute. "Go!"

John, with the ball, eyeballed Red Team and then passed the ball to Kelly, handing it to her carefully. "Slingshot?" she asked, curling one arm over the ball.

"I was thinking merry-go-round," John admitted, carefully maneuvering into position in front of her. She grinned, checked her grip on the ball, and extended her other hand to him.

"Fly me to the moon," she chuckled, bracing herself backwards. John grinned and leaned right; with the smallest of toeholds, he managed to get them rotating. Holding firmly to each other's hands, the pair circled slowly but gained speed quickly. At the peak of their rotation with Kelly's right side to the Red Team, John released his sister. She shot towards the other team; he, more slowly due to his heavier size, headed back towards their goal.

Kelly set her feet and managed to rotate her body enough to face Fred and Linda, who were prepared for the maneuver – it was one of the simplest they'd learned back in the day – and watching Kelly's incoming trajectory. They carefully moved until she would bowl into them; two meters away and about to impact, Kelly dropped to her knees and slid into Fred's legs, knocking the man down and slowing herself sufficiently so she sailed smoothly into their net, the ball still firmly against her chest.

Fred, down in the oil, rolled and tried to get back up, but the oil made it nearly impossible to stand. Linda was out of reach and stuck, unable to move without her partner very quickly.

To cheers from the crowd, Kelly used the goal to stand up and tossed the ball at Linda. The woman caught it with a grimace for its new oily coating; Kelly shoved off the goal and slid back towards John, who was hanging onto their own goal with one hand. She reached out and their wrists slapped together; he slid her around the goal so they framed it.

Fred was back on his feet when Kelly looked towards their siblings. He reached out to Linda, who grabbed his hand and slid to him. They spoke quietly; over the crowd, Kelly and John couldn't make out their plan.

They used a slingshot maneuver; John and Kelly tracked Linda's incoming trajectory and then John pushed Kelly to an intercept point. He miscalculated slightly, but Kelly managed to reach out and snag Linda's wrist as they sailed by each other. With a yank, Kelly dropped both of them; they started sliding, very slowly, towards the side of the court. John, still at the goalie net on Blue Team's side, moved to be between Linda and the net, while Fred pushed off of his net to assist his teammate.

About to be outnumbered, Kelly shoved Linda back towards Fred, simultaneously propelling herself – on her knees – towards John. He reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt, swinging her into the net where she could get a grip and stand up.

"We're all oily," Kelly laughed, standing gracefully.

"I think Linda's going to have some harsh words with you," John pointed out, nodding to their siblings. Fred was down again, having run into Linda to stop her forward velocity. They had nothing to brace on in the middle of the oil field, so the pair had to be careful about standing. Once upright, they linked hands again, glaring at Kelly and John playfully – for Fred – and unhappily – for Linda.

"Come at us!" Kelly yelled encouragingly, wiggling into a better position.

With everyone oily, the game ramped up in its intensity. Fred made the next try for the goal; it took both John and Kelly to catch him before he shot into their net. Kelly then snatched the ball from him and John pushed him off into a corner by himself so he couldn't help Linda. Kelly pushed off from the net and skirted neatly around Linda, despite the red-head's attempts to intercept her, and threw the ball into the Red Team's net.

Linda scored the next point on Blue Team by sending Fred in first and following after him. All four Spartans went down in tangle in that episode, which made everyone watching the spectacle laugh as Kelly shoved Fred away and sent him spinning towards the edge of the rink. He caught himself on the edge and stood back up, but by then, Linda had managed to toss the ball into the Blue Team's net.

John and Kelly snatched victory from their siblings by sliding _everyone_ into the net with enough force to pop out a few of the bolts holding it to the ice. Kelly dropped the ball inside the net and laughed as the crowd started cheering wildly, many of them standing.

John untangled himself from the pile of Spartans and pulled himself upright. The oil had thoroughly soaked into his clothing, hair, and skin; he ran a hand through his hair and slicked it back.

"Dashing," Kelly laughed as she similarly disengaged. Fred and Linda, on the bottom of the pile, finally untangled themselves and stood as well, using the net to haul themselves up.

"So long as we're all messy," Fred said good-naturedly, "we might as well show them how to work the rink." He nodded to a few Marines who were gathering close to the edge. John pushed off the net over to the closest group.

"Ready for a lesson?" he asked cheerfully, grabbing one by the shoulder and pulling them up into the pool of oil. Unprepared for the sudden movement, the Marine promptly collapsed once John set him down, much to the amusement of his fellows.

Linda, Fred, and Kelly found groups of their own. They each chose three Marines at first, so the rink wasn't too crowded, pulling them into the oil easily.

"Stand and brace yourself," John ordered his small group, demonstrating as he set his feet. "Remember, you have zero purchase here, so the only way you'll move is if someone pushes you, hits you, or slingshots you. Keep your center of gravity low. If you need to find purchase, think about bearing down on the ice beneath the oil, and if you're lucky, you'll find a little grip. If you fall down, you'll keep sliding. If you're rotating, you can speed up or slow down by pulling in your pushing out your arms." John snatched a Marine who was sliding away and pushed him towards the other two. They caught him and the three started moving slowly away.

John stabilized the three and then got a volunteer. He turned and caught Kelly's eye. "Coming over!" he called across the rink; Kelly turned to catch his person, whom he shoved – gently and smoothly – in her direction. The Marine slid across the ice and then lost his balance and fell on his tailbone, yelping in pain.

Kelly caught him against her legs and hauled him back to his feet. "Keep your balance or you'll bruise your tail!" she laughed at him, passing him off to Fred. They rotated volunteers through the groups to get everyone used to moving slowly, in a straight line. The Spartans remembered hours of doing exactly this, learning how to use the lack of friction against their "enemies" – the other teams of kids – and how to move and trust your partners.

"Alright, now you all pair up and work on moving around," Fred ordered when the last of the twelve Marines had been passed between the four Spartans. The oil on the rink was getting low; John could actually almost walk over to the edge of the rink. Derek had gallon jugs of more oil waiting, however, and he helped several Marines pour more onto the rink. John and Kelly moved it away from the sides with their arms, sending small ripples through the field.

The twelve original Maries rotated off the ice to shower – and figure out how to get oil out of their hair – and another twelve came on. The Spartans stayed until everyone had had a chance to try out the new exercise. Around 1900 hours, those Marines started disappearing in greater numbers, to have dinner and settle in for the evening. John, Kelly, Linda, and Fred were left alone in the gym, Kelly chuckling softly to herself as she "swam" on her stomach through the mess.

From somewhere in the gym came the soft sound of music; all four Spartans turned to see Derek flash them a thumbs up, yell something about "pretty ballerinas," and disappear. With no one in reach of anyone else, they couldn't get the music to turn off quickly, so they agreed to let it play.

John idly floated towards Kelly, sitting down on his haunches now. She spotted his movement and moved to intercept him. "You know what? I haven't had this much fun in a while," she sighed happily, bumping into his leg and half-crawling into his lap to keep them together as they drifted lazily.

"Mhmm," John hummed in agreement. "Did you enjoy the game or the training more?"

"I can't really decide." Kelly pouted and shifted, sending them into a slow spin. "I liked the game because it was a lot of fun, but training the Marines a little was fun, too, more because I got to see them falling down so much. And it's nice to be able to teach something other than how to shoot or hunt down an enemy or something. I mean, this has _some_ practical applications, but not many. Though it was fun to see Linda fall over." She snickered at her sister who splashed oil at them as they passed. Linda was still, so John reached out and pushed her towards Fred, sending him and Kelly in the opposite direction.

"You know would be hilarious?" Fred called over the rink, catching Linda with a grin of thanks to John. "_Real_ ballet on this floor."

"Gods, think of the broken ankles," Linda sighed, eyeing the oil field as she pulled herself fully into Fred's lap to avoid the sticky liquid. "It'd take a lifetime of training, Spartan-like reflexes, not to mention-" Linda's protest ended in a squeak as Fred stood, managing to bring her upright with him, and spun her to face him, backing up a pace carefully.

"Care to dance?" he asked cheerily, sweeping out one arm in a formal bow and then offering his hand.

"Fred, no," Linda protested, but she took his hand after a moment's hesitation and put her other hand on his shoulder. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she muttered, blushing a little.

"Neither do I," Fred assured her softly, placing his other hand at the small of her back. "Besides, it's not like we can go anywhere."

"We can help with that!" Kelly called, shoving off of John towards them gently. Thus warned, Fred and Linda braced; she bumped into them gently and then shoved back towards John, sending them – slowly and steadily – in the other direction.

Fred swayed to the music and then rotated them slowly, grinning at Linda's look of concentration. "Just flow with the music," he whispered, leaning down to speak into her ear.

Linda closed her eyes for a moment and let him lead her; then she felt the rhythm herself and swayed with him, rotating slowly.

"They're so adorable," Kelly giggled quietly to John, who had caught her on the way past again. "Shall we dance?"

"To slow music?" John asked teasingly. "I don't think that's really your style."

"No, you're right," Kelly admitted. "We'll wait for something faster. In the meantime, I'm happy to float – if you work on my neck." John obliged silently, both of them watching the other pair as they spun slowly.

Suddenly, but gently, Fred spun Linda out at the end of his arm, further slowing their rotation, and then twirled her back in like the cheesiest of dancing scenes in romantic movies. Nearing the net, he carefully caught them on it and shoved in the other direction, slowly, so they would have plenty of room to maneuver. He spun Linda out again and then, bringing her back in, dropped both hands to her sides.

John glanced down at Kelly and noted the amusement on her face – and was there a hint of wistfulness? "Jealous?" he murmured near-silently.

"Not really," Kelly admitted, leaning back into him. "I'm not the same kind of sap they are." Linda, overhearing her sister's comment, broke away from Fred long enough to stick her tongue out at Kelly before turning back to her man. "But it just makes me wonder what I'm missing out on."

"I don't think you'd be that kind of sap even without the implants," John mused thoughtfully. "You don't like the old-style romantic crap – uh, stuff-" he corrected quickly when Fred threw _him_ a dirty glance, "that they do. But you've got your own idea of romance – and it mostly involves _beating_ on me."

"You poor, abused Spartan," Kelly chuckled, reaching up to pat his cheek.

"Alright, you two, enough moping or whatever you're doing over there!" Fred called. "Get in here."

"Too slow," Kelly replied, laughing. "You two enjoy yourselves."

"Kelly, so help me, if you don't get up and join us, I'm not going to give you any of the anti-oil shampoo I have," Linda threatened.

Kelly squeaked unhappily and turned her head to look at John. "Do _you_ have any such shampoo?" she asked hopefully. He shook his head, amused. "Damn. Come on, then, John." She hauled herself up and John stood as well. "If you make me look stupid, I'll throw you into the net and leave you there," she growled lowly, turning to face John.

John reached out with one hand and snagged said net, wrapping an arm around Kelly to halt them both. "Incoming," he warned Linda and Fred, pushing them off towards their siblings. Linda and Fred separated and caught them.

"Care for a dance?" Fred asked Kelly teasingly. "_I_ won't make you look stupid."

"Charmer," Kelly chuckled, taking his hand. John similarly bowed to Linda, who grinned and slid closer. "Now what?"

"Now we float," Fred told her, gently shoving off from Linda and John. "Just move with me. I'm – hey, I'm supposed to lead!"

But Kelly had the bit in her teeth and flawlessly copied Fred's own movements with Linda, spinning him out and then back in. "You know, the girl is usually supposed to be spun," he grumped.

"I warned you!" Linda laughed from where John had carefully spun her out as well and was twirling her back in. Without having to move her feet, the movement looked much more graceful than it would have been without the oil.

After some practice, John and Kelly traded partners again, Fred giving John some pointers about how to spin him. "I'm not a whip!" he laughed as John almost let go. "You're not trying to throw me off, John."

John frowned in concentration and brought Fred back. "You know, with anyone else, this would be very awkward," Linda opined from where Kelly was experimenting with the steps they could do.

"Why?" Fred asked, showing John was he meant by spinning the larger man out and then carefully back in.

"Well, for one, anyone else dancing with us would be face-planted in our chests," Kelly replied, grinning cheekily.

"Somehow, I don't think they'd mind," Fred snickered.

"And you know how most men in the military are," Linda added, shifting as Kelly tried to figure out how to dip her and failing, almost landing Linda in the oil again. "Drop me and I will leave fish guts in your bed, too," she growled threateningly at her partner.

"Time for a switch," Kelly suggested prudently. "John, you don't mind if I drop you, do you?"

"Not really," John admitted. "But aren't I supposed to dip you?"

Kelly flapped her hand at him as she handed Linda to Fred and took John back. "Sexist stereotypes. Now shut up and think _light as a feather_, because otherwise I can't hold your ass up."

However, as with anything between John and Kelly, they soon turned the simple dance practice into a contest of strength and dominance. Watching them, Linda nuzzled Fred's chest. "They're exhausting me," she admitted as John grabbed Kelly's hand, whipping her around his back to his other, outstretched hand, and then swinging her in front again before she could set her feet against the motion.

"It's how they interact," Fred chuckled lowly, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

Linda hummed in agreement, watching carefully as John pinned Kelly's hands behind her back and pulled down until her knees bent and she dipped, however unwillingly. He smirked and brought her back upright; Kelly immediately broke his grip and shoved him backwards, catching his hand at the last second and _slamming_ them together.

"But does it always have to be a contest? That can't be healthy."

"You're not exactly qualified to talk about relationship styles," Fred murmured, grinning. His hot breath tickled through her red hair. "Besides, you shouldn't judge them for how they enjoy each other's company."

"I'm not, I'm just a little worried that they haven't gone farther."

"They'll get there when they get there."

Linda sighed in agreement. "I'm about ready to be done if they are," she said tentatively after a few minutes of comfortable silence between the pair. She looked over and rubbed her nose against Fred's chest in silent frustration at the sight.

John and Kelly had given up dancing and were wrestling, on their hands and knees – they hadn't started there – and making an even bigger mess of themselves. They were also finding out how hard it was to hold onto your opponent when he doesn't want you to and is covered in oil as a bonus.

"Children!" Fred barked, laughing at the pair.

"Don't give me that tone," Kelly retorted, scrabbling in the oil for purchase as John knelt over her, pinning her down. "Help me out here!"

"Not gonna happen. You two got into that mess, get yourself out of it." Linda eyeballed her sister, who seemed far too happy being pinned under John in a lake of oil. "You alright there?" she asked.

"Never better," Kelly panted in reply, finally managing to get a little wiggle room and turning the tables, rolling John onto his back before the larger Spartan could counter. "I win!"

Kelly yelped, however, as John pushed up and threw her towards the other end of the rink, separating them. Kelly slid towards the edge on her hands and knees, spinning slowly. "That's cheating," she argued as John – slowly – made his own way towards the closest edge of the field. It was only two meters from his outstretched hand, but it may as well have been ten for all he could move that way.

"I've forgotten," he admitted as his siblings watched him "swim" without any results, "how hard this is."

Kelly took pity on him and walk around the edge of the field. Reaching in with a broom handle, she was able to pull him out; then she offered the same broom handle to Linda, who used it to pull her and Fred to the edge as well.

"I'm exhausted," Linda admitted, smiling slightly as John rubbed his oily hands firmly into Kelly's well-oiled hair. "Time to go home."

Her siblings agreed and they all headed for the exit. John turned off the music while Linda, who was the least oily of them, grabbed all their bags. Then they silently walked through the base, returning greetings from the few soldiers they encountered.

"Home sweet home," Linda sighed as they walked into the mudroom. "Alright, _no one_ touches anything until they've showered – and here's a bag for clothing." She handed Kelly the plastic bag; Kelly took it and headed upstairs to the shower. John took another such bag and headed for the lower-floor shower.

John quickly stripped off his oil-sodden clothing, placing each piece carefully in the plastic bag, before finding the special shampoo and soap Linda had found at the mall for just this occasion. It took three washings to get the oil out of his hair, and several minutes of scrubbing, but he finally felt close to oil-free and wrapped a towel around his waist. Fred took over the bathroom; John headed for the kitchen and dug into the leftovers still in the refrigerator.

"Save some for me?" Kelly asked, coming up behind him. Her hair was wrapped in a small towel, another one covering her body from collar bone to mid-thigh.

"A little," John teased, handing her a bowl with warmed-up soup and a spoon. "Get it all out?"

"Most of it," Kelly sighed, taking the bowl and cupping it in both hands to warm up. "But we're going to run out of hot water if Fred and Linda take as long as I did."

John chuckled. "Kelly, we're not on a ship anymore. I don't think we could run out the hot water if we tried. This base is supplied for twice as many soldiers as are here now."

Kelly nodded reluctantly. "I'd forgotten," she admitted. "Aren't you chilled?"

John shrugged, though now that his sister mentioned it, he could feel the goosebumps along his arm and a fine shiver traveled up his body, further stiffening the hairs on his limbs. "Not really," he replied, turning back to the microwave and retrieving his own bowl of soup. He put another bowl in for Fred or Linda, whoever got done first.

Kelly yawned widely, baring her teeth at John playfully. "I wasn't expecting to get so tired," she admitted. "I was going to suggest a spar, but I'm tired enough to go straight to bed."

"Good, because I'd fall asleep as soon as you put me on the mat," John teased, grinning as she stuck her tongue out at him. "You're going to bite your tongue off one day if you keep doing that."

Kelly snorted and finished her soup. John was half-way through his bowl when Fred joined them in the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist. He thanked John for the bowl of soup and sat at the kitchen table to eat it, savoring the warmth.

John finished his bowl and washed both his and Kelly's dishes. He wished Fred a good night and then followed Kelly up to their room. He passed Linda in the hall and wished her a good night as well, letting her know that he'd left warm soup in the microwave for her.

Then John entered his and Kelly's room and chuckled to see Kelly burrowed under her covers on her cot. Then he noticed that she'd stolen his blanket, too, and growled softly.

"Are you planning on sharing?" he asked Kelly, crossing to the dresser for a pair of boxers. He quickly changed and hung his towel next to Kelly's on the back of the door.

"No," Kelly replied, pulling the blankets more firmly around herself. "I'm chilled."

John sighed and flicked out the light. "Well, if you consider sharing, I'll consider _not_ planting my cold feet on your back."

"You wouldn't dare," Kelly hissed, looking out from under her pile of blankets.

"I would and you know it."

"…Tch, fine." Kelly flung his blanket at him, quickly burrowing under her own again.

"Come here." John wiggled his hand under her covers and found her wrist.

"Hey, why are _you _warm?" Kelly scooted closer and John hissed as her chilly skin touched his.

"_Why_ would you do that?" John whined as Kelly warmed up against him.

"Good night," Kelly replied serenely, as innocently as though she wasn't leeching heat out of him. John sighed and wrapped an arm around Kelly's back.


	9. Learning Together

**Chapter 9: Learning Together**

The Spartan's days passed in relative peace, some more quickly than others. Two months before they were scheduled to leave with the Hoods to go to Kalgarro, Linda received an invitation to attend – and partially lead – weekly meetings with a group of the UNSC's best snipers. They tested new long-range weapons, offered suggestions to technicians, and generally had a good time.

Linda's Monday nights were taken up with planning the week's meeting, while her Thursday nights were spent at the meeting itself. Fred often attended the meetings, though he wasn't as good a sniper as Linda, and learned quite a bit. Kelly and John tagged along a couple times, but neither of them had the same capacity for patience and perfection as Linda and the snipers.

Two days before their departure, Linda was out at a sniper's seminar – she called them that – and Fred had gone with her to hone his own sniping skills. That left Kelly and John in the house alone, which Fred had teased his brother about before heading out. It was a common ritual, but John could hear the frustration in his brother's voice.

The pair had at least twelve hours before their siblings returned. John made lunch and they ate their sandwiches watching the news, which was full of uplifting stories about rebuilding today. It included a short description of the work going on at several of the colonies being rebuilt – and a special about Kalgarro. They listened carefully, noting key names. Then the news turned to other matters and John turned off the projector.

Kelly stretched lazily, yawning out of boredom more than tiredness. "What's on your agenda today, Chief?" she asked, grinning.

John shrugged. "I was going to pack for Kalgarro, since we have the time now and might not later this week."

Kelly nodded. "Probably a good idea," she agreed. "I think I'll join you."

John playfully opened the bedroom door once they were upstairs and bowed her in; Kelly ruffled his hair and chuckled. "Thank you, gallant one," she oozed, flicking on the light.

She grabbed a small duffel bag from the closet and tossed it to him; John caught it and set it carefully on his cot. Kelly copied him and they silently started packing their clothing. Each brought mostly fatigues, but also packed a pair of bodysuits and their formal uniform as well. They would add in their toiletries later.

Kelly zipped up her duffel and put it under her bed; John did the same. "Alright, well, there went fifteen minutes." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "What do you feel like doing now?"

"Why do I have to choose?" John asked teasingly, heading back downstairs. Kelly followed.

"I don't care what we do, so it's up to you."

"And what if I don't care what we do?"

"It's still up to you."

"Damn."

Kelly chuckled and they headed into the basement. The pair were always up for sparring. John pulled the mats out from the closet and they quickly set them on the ground. After warming up with stretches, they squared off, circling slowly.

John put Kelly on defense immediately by striking first; she caught his open hand and tried to pull him over her hip, but he stabilized and resisted the tug, grinning at her. Kelly dropped his hand and moved sideways; John pivoted to follow. They traded blows for a few minutes before Kelly grabbed onto John's shoulder and pulled him to the floor.

They rolled away from each other and John rose to one knee facing his sister. Kelly growled and stood for just a second, jumping at him; he caught her and tried to toss her off, but she grabbed onto his wrists and turned his throw against him. They both landed on their sides, but John had a more advantageous position and rolled until he could kneel over Kelly to pin her down.

Kelly wiggled experimentally but John had her wrists pinned above her head where she shouldn't use her full strength to free them, and his knees on either side of her ribs kept her from wiggling out. He was hunched forward so she couldn't knee him in the back, either, though she did try.

"You're evil," she chuckled, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her face.

"No, I'm just good at this," he teased, grinning.

"Alright, you made your point, let me up."

"Hmmm, no, I think not."

"John…"

"Yes?"

"This isn't exactly comfortable."

"You're a Spartan. Deal with it."

Kelly sighed, bringing her knees up into a more comfortable position. "You're sitting on my bladder," she complained.

John shifted obligingly and she tried to wiggle free but his knees clamped down like a vice and prevented her from doing so. He leaned more of his weight onto her and she calmed back down.

"You're impossible," she grunted, fists clenching.

"Impossibly cute," he replied, grinning cheerfully.

"Impossibly heavy. Have you been sneaking cookies?"

John stuck out his tongue at his sister. "No."

"Lies. What else would you be doing when you stay at home while we go do things?" Kelly asked, wiggling as she tried to tuck her shirt back down from where it had ridden up from her last attempt to break free.

John frowned slightly and released his sister, standing up and stepping over her. "Another match?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Kelly refused to stand up, however, and pulled her shirt down as she spoke. "No, John, we should talk about this. You've been avoiding going out with us unless you have to. I thought you might just be trying to cope, so I haven't said anything, but I'm curious and I think I have a right to know."

"Why?" John asked, sitting down next to her.

"Because you're my brother, my CO, and my friend," Kelly replied gruffly, sitting up and scooting around to face him. "So, what're you doing that you don't want us to know about?"

John fidgeted a little; Kelly's eyebrow rose slightly. He'd been working on letting down his emotional barriers, and they'd all be helping him; the fidgeting was a new thing he did when truly upset or worried.

"I've been doing some research," he admitted softly.

"About what?"

"Pituitary glands."

Kelly blinked in confusion. The Spartans had received implants to those glands to increase their growth – but those same implants also suppressed their libido and helped to control emotional responses. Or different implants that had been put in at the same time. Kelly wasn't entirely sure what all was in her brain that wasn't organic.

"Why?" she finally asked.

"Do you really need to ask?" John replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Besides the obvious. What are _you_ trying to accomplish?"

"If we can remove them… They're done their job, really. We grew faster and taller than we were supposed to. We got through the war without emotional problems. I don't think it's healthy to keep suppressing those urges, especially with recent developments." Kelly sniggered quietly and John eyed her before cracking a grin of his own. "They might help us _really_ understand what we missed out on, maybe even let us experience some of it."

"Teenage hormones." Kelly exaggerated her shiver. "Are you sadistic? Do you _want_ Linda and I to go crazy once a month? 'Cause I hear that's what happens."

"There are medications to help with that, and there's always your training. You've gone through battle with cramps before."

Kelly made a face. "Yes, but it was _not_ pleasant. And _you_ don't have to deal with them."

"I have to put up with your whining."

"Touché… Bastard." Kelly socked him – hard – and John let her.

"But seriously, Kelly. Don't you want to see what it's like to live with full emotional capacity?"

"Yes," Kelly admitted after frowning for a moment. "But it's going to be hard. We'll be practically useless for a while. Probably breaking down every time we stub a toe."

John grinned. "I don't think it'll be that bad. We went through most of training without it."

"Yes, but we now have fully adult, fully operational, and totally suppressed bodies. And free time, and privacy. It could get ugly _really_ quickly."

"You don't trust us to be able to moderate ourselves?"

"I really don't." There was no teasing in her voice; John frowned, shaking his head.

"Have some faith, Kelly. We could do it one at a time, too."

"In pairs – Linda and Fred, then you and me."

"Do you think that'd be a good idea? Why not you and Linda together, and then Fred and I – or vice versa."

"Because I don't want to deal with two hormonal women and two hormonal men together. It's be better to go in pairs anyway." She raised an eyebrow significantly. John nodded slightly.

"Alright, I can accept that. But we'll need outside help, more than likely. Some sort of psychologist would probably be best. One who specializes in young adults, most likely."

Kelly nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a good plan," she said quietly. "But why now, John?"

"I'm… I'd _like_ to move forward with our lives, Kelly." He smiled slightly. "We are getting close to sixty years old now. We've given the better part of our lives to the UNSC. It's selfish of us, but…"

"We've damned well earned it," Kelly agreed, smiling. "But not until we get back from Kalgarro, and _only_ if we can get… Well, I wouldn't say permission, but we should definitely talk to several doctors about this, make sure it won't damage anything permanently to remove the implants."

John nodded. "That was going to be my next step. I didn't want to mention it to you until I'd talked it over with a doctor and made sure it would be safe, not to mention possible."

"And we'll have to let NavSpecWep know. They technically own us, still. They may not want us to be… Well, I guess you could say _free_."

"That's the attitude I'd like to have about it."

Kelly hummed in agreement. "So, now that that's out of the way, anything else bugging you?"

John shook his head. "As always, Kelly, you made me spill my guts."

She matched his grin with a chuckle. "I am good at that, aren't I?"

"You just know me too damn well," he replied.

"You do it to me, too," she pointed out.

John nodded. "I guess it's fair, then." They grinned at each other and then resumed their sparring session.

_~~HALO~~_

Fred chuckled as he and Linda stepped through the door. He grinned as Linda waved and walked into the kitchen. Fred headed into the living room and waited for one of his siblings to welcome them home, but received no such greeting. He frowned and called softly, "John? Kelly?"

He looked into the basement; they weren't there. But the sparring mats were in a different order, which meant they'd sparred. He checked the weight room but they weren't there, either, so he headed up to the bedrooms.

He found the pair curled up in the reading room, a book on the floor spine-up saying that one of them had fallen asleep reading. John was sitting on the couch, one arm propping his head up, the other draped over Kelly. She was lying on her side, half-way on John's lap, her arms crossed to keep them from dangling.

Fred froze instantly, not wanting to disturb them, and then silently made his way out of the room, closing the door softly. Had he been anyone but one of the siblings, the pair would have woken instantly, but their subconscious minds had recognized him as no threat.

Fred hurried – silently – downstairs and grabbed Linda as she started to make a ruckus in the kitchen. "You've got to see this," he murmured, pulling her up the stairs. He cracked open the reading room door and then let it fall open silently. Both Spartans looked in; Linda clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling at their siblings.

"Another step forward," she muttered lowly as she and Fred went back downstairs. "Good for them."

"We should let them sleep."

"Did you see John's position? He's going to wake up with a sore neck if he sleeps very long like that."

"No pain, no gain."

"I'm hungry and I'm making dinner." Fred grinned as Linda glared at him, daring him to contradict her, but he was hungry, too, and merely raised his hands in surrender. Linda grinned and headed into the kitchen. He followed and leaned on a counter, out of the way but ready to help if she wanted some assistance.

"I wish we had a camera. That's on our next shopping list."

Fred nodded in agreement and crossed to the fridge, adding "camera" to the shopping list already in progress. "We're living as couples now, we should start documenting things other than battlefields and the interior of Covenant ships," he joked, grinning.

"My thoughts exactly." Linda grinned and hip-checked him away from the fridge so she could gather some ingredients for food.

"I'm working on making food. You're not making the process any faster," she warned as Fred moseyed towards the pots already on the stove.

"I'm hungry," Fred protested, lifting the lid of a pot – only to find it empty. He pouted childishly at her; she smirked in return and gently shoved him out of the way.

Fred hugged her gently from behind, the top of her head being the perfect height to rest his chin on. He gently kissed her hair and then rested his head on top of hers. "Excited to go on our first vacation ever?" he asked quietly.

"I kinda counted trips to the sick bay vacation," she admitted, leaning back into him as she chopped up several vegetables. "But yes, I am looking forward to seeing Kalgarro – and spending two months with Terry and his family should be interesting."

Fred nodded in agreement, wiggling Linda's head with him comically. She chuckled lowly. "And," he added cheekily, "it'll give John and Kelly the privacy they might need to get a move on things."

"Now, Fred," Linda scolded, tilting her head back to glare softly at him, "they're taking it at their own pace. _We_ didn't move all that fast, either."

"Yeah, but I'm tired of waiting for them to discover how wonderful this is." He pressed his lips to the crown of her head again; she hummed happily.

"I prefer to think of them like a roast – slow and steady wins the race. We can't push them any faster. They have to move at their own pace. Can you get a couple of plates?"

"Sure." Fred moved over to the cupboard and brought her back the requested items, along with a pair of glasses filled with cool water from the fridge.

"Thanks." Linda quickly steamed the chopped vegetables and Fred watched, leaning against the counter now.

They sat down to eat once the food was ready in companionable silence. Half-way through the meal, they heard John's nearly-silent step approaching the kitchen; he looked in and smiled upon seeing his siblings.

"I thought I smelled something good," he said softly. "Leave enough for me?"

"On the stove," Linda replied, grinning. "Where's Kelly?"

"Still asleep."

"You two looked pretty comfortable up there." To Fred's delight, John cleared his throat and the back of his neck – all they could see as he looked in the pot – turned a dusty red. "Don't get embarrassed on us. We thought it was very cute. Just wish we'd had a camera." Linda chuckled in agreement.

"Ah… Well, we just fell asleep waiting for you guys to get home. How did the seminar go?"

"It went really well. I'm going to miss them while we're on vacation," Linda admitted.

John nodded in agreement and sat at the table with a bowl of vegetables for himself. "We'll be back in two months, though," he pointed out. "Two weeks to get there, two weeks back, a month there."

"I know." Linda smiled.

"So, how did _your_ evening go?" Fred grinned saucily.

"It went pretty well," John replied, smiling back. "We sparred, talked, watched some news, and then I read."

"Who won?" Fred asked, grinning.

"Well, I won the physical spar, but she always beats me when we talk," John admitted, grinning lopsidedly.

"Poor John."

"Can it, Fred."

"Yes, sir." Fred grinned cheekily.

"What'd you two talk about?" Linda asked, cutting into the glaring contest.

"Actually, it is something I want to talk to you about," John said, finishing his bowl of veggies. "Kelly and I talked about possibly removing the pituitary implants we received with the augmentations."

Both Fred and Linda stared at their brother as though he was crazy, then slowly realization dawned in Linda's eyes, followed quickly by Fred's. "Remove the emotional suppression?" Linda murmured, her voice quiet with more than simple surprise. She glanced at Fred.

John nodded seriously. "Kelly thinks that, if we try it, we should do it in pairs – you two, us two, in some order. And we'll probably need a psychologist's help, not to mention cooperation and agreement from NavSpecWep and PERSCOM – 'cause we'll probably be out of commission for a while."

"Is it possible?" Linda asked quietly. "They're pretty ingrained by now."

John nodded. "I haven't spoken to a doctor yet. I was going to when we get back."

Linda nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good idea. We should know if it's possible before we get our hopes up." She glanced at Fred again; John couldn't read the glance, but Fred certainly could and wrapped an arm around her, hugging her for comfort more than anything else.

"Are you okay?" John asked Linda, frowning slightly.

"I'm fine," Linda replied, smiling sadly. "But it's a cruel hope to dangle in front of us, John."

John nodded. "I'm sorry. I thought you might have a suggestion or objection."

"Not that I think you haven't thought of already. We can talk about it more on the ship. Terry might know of a good place to start and have some advice about the politics of our decision."

"Politics." John sighed but grinned ruefully. "We're simple soldiers, not politicians."

Fred snorted. "John, 'simple'? Hardly. We're Spartans."

"Still, soldiers – not politicians."

"Unfortunately, in this day and age, a soldier must know the politics to survive. There are more subtle battlefields now," Fred muttered unhappily.

John and Linda nodded in agreement and the trio cleaned up their dishes. "On a completely separate subject, have you two packed?" John asked the pair.

"Not yet," Fred replied, smiling slightly. "We thought we'd do it tomorrow, before training."

John hummed in agreement and they headed upstairs. Fred and Linda disappeared into their room quickly; John looked into the reading room but Kelly had woken and moved. He found her in their bedroom, sprawled over her cot.

Kelly looked up when John came in and grinned in welcome. "How're the other two?" she asked quietly.

"Good. The seminar went well. I mentioned our discussion about the implants – we decided we'd talk more on the way to Kalgarro, and maybe discuss it with Terry. He'll probably be able to suggest who we should talk to, politically speaking." John pulled his shirt off and tossed it into the dirty laundry hamper; his pants quickly followed with his socks and then he lay down in his own cot, pulling his blanket up and then tucking his hands under his head.

"That's a good idea," Kelly mused once John was settled. They slept with a clear avenue between their cots – the habit came from days when sleeping closely packed meant causalities when the trainers woke them with stun batons or worse.

Tonight, however, Kelly rolled off of her cot on the opposite side from John and scooted it so that the sides of their beds touched. John raised an eyebrow.

"Face it, there's no trainers who're stupid enough to try and sneak into our bedroom to wake us up," Kelly muttered, falling back into her cot. "'Sides, Linda says it's nice to sleep like this."

John hummed thoughtfully and rolled onto his side, facing Kelly. "We took a pretty big step today," he murmured, referring to how Fred had found him and Kelly.

"Is this too fast?" Kelly asked, opening one eye.

John shook his head. "If you're comfortable, then so am I," he said quietly.

Kelly nodded. "But you'll tell me if I'm moving too quickly, right?" She sounded a little worried; John smiled reassuringly.

"Kelly, you're the fastest person ever. But you're being very – hmm, what's a good word? Gentle, almost. Understanding, certainly. Thank you for that. But I think we can move a little faster."

"Hmmm, good," Kelly chuckled. "I'm getting a little impatient."

"You are an impatient person," John teased, flicking her nose. She scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at him; John flicked that, too, and she snapped her teeth at his fingers, which he quickly pulled away. "Hey, no biting," he scolded.

"I'll bite you if I want to," she replied, smirking. "And you can't do shit about it."

John raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I could just wear the armor all the time. Good luck biting through that."

"You'd owe me some major dental work."

"I'm not the one making you bite me."

"Yes, you are."

"How?"

"'Cause I said so."

John merely rolled his eyes and refused to respond; Kelly grinned proudly at him.

"I win," she sang softly, not wanting to wake their siblings down the hall.

"Refusing to play doesn't mean you win," John argued. "Now go to sleep before I kick you out to the couch for keeping me awake."

"As if you could," Kelly scoffed, rolling onto her more comfortable side, facing away from John. She squeaked in surprise when he grabbed her and pulled her closer, his arm over her side.

"Good _night_," he said firmly as she struggled to free herself. She harrumphed and settled down; her blue hair tickled at John's nose until he moved it away.

"Good night, John," she murmured as her body relaxed into slumber.

"Good night, Kelly," he replied, closing his own eyes.


	10. Base Lessons

_Please do review! :) I love seeing review notifications on my email. :D I know there's quite a few people following this story - thank you for your loyalty! I hope you enjoy this chapter. It and the next one are closely connected._

**Chapter 10: Base Lessons**

"Okay, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, deodorant, soap, towel, clothing, shoes, swim suit… What am I missing?" Fred muttered to himself as he moved through his and Linda's bedroom.

"You'd leave your head behind if you didn't write it down," Linda teased, grinning. Fred threw a pair of his socks at her; she caught them and dropped them into his suitcase.

They finished packing quickly and then stowed their suitcases under their bed. "Breakfast?" Fred suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Linda agreed.

They knocked on Kelly and John's door, but the pair didn't answer from inside so Linda led the way into the kitchen. John was sitting at the table, quietly munching dry cereal, while Kelly leaned on the counter and nibbled at an apple.

"Good morning," Kelly said cheerfully, her blue hair still spiked from sleep. "How'd you two sleep?"

"Well enough. Yourself?" Linda moved towards the fridge while Fred joined John at the table.

"Really well," Kelly replied, grinning conspiratorially. She leaned over and murmured in Linda's ear; John and Fred exchanged amused glances as Linda smirked, glanced at John knowingly, and hugged her sister around the shoulders.

"Good for you two," was all she said, however, leaving Fred entirely in the dark. He pouted but she didn't say anything as the group ate their breakfast.

All four were wearing their training outfits and had a morning of work planned with the base's soldiers, group by group. The seminar for the snipers that Linda headed wasn't the only group like it, but it was the only one which required a night-time meeting because of the requirements on the soldiers during the day. Seeing the success of the sniping groups, the base had started giving Saturdays over to specialized training. Fred led the hand-to-hand teams, while Linda worked with non-snipers on their long-range weaponry. John taught leadership and tactics while Kelly was trying to start a group of Rabbits, as they called themselves.

"Alright, ready?" John asked once they'd all finished their breakfast. Kelly nodded; Linda and Fred agreed verbally. They headed out of the house and towards the interior of the base's 5.7 acres of training grounds, barracks, officer housing, mess hall, and other buildings.

Fred headed for the bare-dirt training field he generally used with his hand-to-hand students; they were already waiting for him. Kelly walked towards the gym and Linda went to the rifle range. John headed for one of the classroom buildings; he'd already received permission to use the holographic simulators in the Battle Lab and had a good morning of work for his own trainees planned.

They greeted him with a chorus of "Good morning, sir," and "Mornin', LT!" – the former, from new students, the latter from soldiers John had known a while. He returned the greeting as he walked up to the front of the room and called up the simulator. While it spun up the program he'd already designed, he faced the class.

There were only fifteen in this group – the smallest of the classes taught Saturday mornings, strictly voluntary – and he knew each one except for a new student with Sanderson stitched on the front of his flight suit which marked him as a pilot.

"We'll be starting this morning with a study of the Didact and the Composer," John told the class. They had yet to discuss the Forerunner, so the announcement made the men and women blink in confusion. John waved to the projector, which called up an image of the Didact as seen through John's helmet when he had been frozen by the Forerunner. John explained quickly what a Forerunner truly was and who, specifically, the Didact had been.

"He had an ability to use magnetic fields – we believe that is what they are, though we have very little data –to freeze opponents, especially ones wearing armor." John quickly explained how the Didact had managed to stop him and levitate the Spartan and his armor, a full half-ton, without apparent effort.

"After the nuclear detonation that destroyed the Composer and, we believe, the Didact himself, we were unable to retrieve the Didact's body – though it is likely that, after falling into the Composer's beam, he was turned into electrical data. We are unsure how Composing a human or Promethean turns them into the warriors we found on Requiem, but there has been no contact with any Forerunner Prometheans since the destruction of the Composer.

"The Composer was destroyed, we believe, but the Librarian did not promise that it was the only such copy. Furthermore, knowing it _is_ possible to turn organic beings into digital data has prompted many scientists to try and replicate the process."

John turned the projector to another image, this time of the station he'd been on when first introduced to the Composer's powers. He played through the view from his helmet as the Composer worked its near-magic abilities on the scientists. The viewframe tilted and he cut it off as it panned downwards; he had collapsed at that point.

"The Composer turned the entire station's population into digital beings and we never found them again. Cortana was able to feel the change and said they practically died; the process strips memory and rational, human thought from the minds of the Composed. They turn into Prometheans." He called up an image of a Promethean, close-up when one had seized him in full armor, despite his shields, and opened its faceplate to shriek.

Sanderson raised his hand; John nodded in permission for him to speak and he rose to his feet formally.

"Why weren't you Composed, sir?" Sanderson asked, puzzled. John tilted his head slightly; the knowledge wasn't common, but he'd thought most soldiers were aware of the Librarian's changes.

"I am immune to the Composer due to certain genetic changes made by the Librarian before I met the Didact, on Requiem. All Spartan IIs have this capability, we think, but until we find the Librarian again, we can't replicate the process. Geneticists aren't entirely sure what she tampered with; the Librarian was a special type of Forerunner devoted to preserving life under the Mantle of Responsibility." John nodded to the feed, which he had back-tracked to bring up an image of the Librarian. "She was responsible for resowing humanity back to Earth after the Forerunners – and the Flood – nearly wiped our species out. The Didact was against this and wanted to Compose all of humanity, all of life if he could, to deny the Flood their food. As far as we know, his kind imprisoned him on Requiem – until I let him back out." John frowned slightly, remembering how he'd been tricked into it. "Does that answer your question, Sanderson?"

Sanderson nodded and sat back down.

"We've never discussed the Forerunners before, and while I am not an expert on them, I can make some inferences based on what I saw on Requiem. First of all, the Mantle of Responsibility – or just the Mantle – was a type of religion, more of a philosophy really. It held that the Forerunners were responsible for guiding all life in the galaxy, keeping the peace and so forth. They were much more advanced than our ancestors, and even farther advanced than we are now." He grinned slightly, pulling up the image of the Didact again.

"Their armor is much lighter than even the best MJOLNIR we have, and probably stronger but I never managed to actually hit the Didact because of his telekinetic abilities. It seems to hover over their body, too." He called up a closer picture, ignoring the shifting of confusion because the image was from when John had landed on his back and the Didact had pinned him with a single foot, so the angle was a little awkward.

"And they monologue," John continued, grinning slightly as the students chuckled. He played the Didact's first speech after being released. "And the Didact, at least, was very full of himself and proud of his species."

"Now that you know the basic background, we're going to play a simulation." John called up the simulator's program; the room shifted uneasily. "If the Didact ever returns to Earth with the Composer, what will you do, as UNSC officers?"

John stepped off to the side, out of the way, as his students consulted their tablets. Each had been given a role – civilian for a few, military for the rest – and had corresponding resources at their disposal.

"Your population is being Composed," John told the room when five minutes have passed. "I suggest you get a move on attacking his ship."

"Sir, there's no Spartan IIs," Sanderson said, standing. Despite his newness, he had clearly taken control of the military leaders; they all nodded in agreement.

"You have a hundred Spartan IVs," John replied.

"But we need IIs."

John tilted his head slightly. "There are four IIs in existence, and we're getting old and creaky." Several soldiers snorted; John smirked to himself. "I'm assuming the Didact, if he survived, will take the time to gather a new Promethean army, since we trashed the last one, which means my siblings and I quite possibly will be dead by the time this becomes a reality. Or you could imagine we're off on another mission," he added when several soldiers winced at the thought of the death of the IIs. "Point being, we aren't immortal and we won't be around all the time. It's time you started using the IVs exclusively, because they're all you're going to have."

"You're _maybe_ forty," one of the men muttered rebelliously.

"Closer to sixty," John replied stoically.

Most of the soldiers in the room gaped. "Jesus H. Christ," one grunted. "Hope I look _half_ that good at sixty!"

"Now, while you've been whining about not having greying Spartan IIs around, several of your cities have been composed." John called up the global map and six cities – all in Africa, near New Phoenix – turned an angry red in reproach. "I suggest you get a move on, because every person Composed could be another Promethean you have to fight."

"Fuck me, we need a hero," one of the women muttered, thumping her head on her desk. "I'm just a CEO of Lance Industries. I've got money, but we've got no time to build shit. Here, have my money." She shoved her tablet towards Sanderson, who nodded in thanks. "I'm gonna go hide in my underground bunker." She crawled under the table and sat there pouting.

"Well, we can always throw credits at them," one of the men joked.

"Yeah, that helps. Who has control of the Spartan IVs?" Sanderson asked.

"I do. And enough Longswords and Pelicans to transport them ground-side."

"Screw ground-side, I want them on that ship. How fast can they get there?"

"Well, assuming the Didact's ship has no air-to-air defense, fifteen minutes at the outside."

"Load 'em up and send 'em in," Sanderson ordered, turning to another military leader. "You have the majority of the Longswords, right?" The man nodded. "Get them loaded with Marines and hit those periphery ships."

"Aye, sir." The two men turned to their tasks. John watched Sanderson closely as he deployed his soldiers to the ships and set a civilian armed with Pelicans – little use in ship-to-ship battles – to evacuating cities near the dead zone.

John paused the simulation once all forces were deployed and called up his first trick. "Oh, look," he drawled, grinning as the soldiers who had taken his class before, and knew what was coming, groaned. "Engine failure on marked ships. Too bad we didn't keep up with maintenance and repairs after so many years of peace." Five ships turned red.

"Fuck." The sentiment was shared among the students verbally.

"Continue."

With those five ships out of commission, Sanderson started losing. Fully half of the IVs who stormed the main ship were dead, according to the chaotic reports generated by the simulator, with no sign of the Didact yet. The fleet of ships with the Didact had been stormed by regular Marines with high casualty rates, and no one had yet managed to capture a ship. Those same ships were also tearing into the human fleet with laser weapons. The city evacuations were the only thing going well.

"Frack me," Sanderson grunted as another report of a downed squad on an enemy ship lit up the simulator's large display.

A new message popped up on the screen: _Didact found, unable to approach_. With it was a five-second clip, supposedly from the helmet of one of the Spartan IVs but in reality pieced from John's own taping of the Didact's ship. It showed the IV walking carefully towards a light bridge, a figure standing at the opposite end. Even knowing that the Didact was dead, John still felt a rush of adrenaline, staring at the back of the Forerunner. The IV muttered his position and the figure turned around; the feed changed angle as the Spartan IV was lifted and then tossed to the side. He fell into the Composer beam and the feed died.

The soldiers in the room stared in shocked silence and then Sanderson snapped, "Get the IVs together. He can only take out one soldier at a time. Send them to that location in a single group." The Spartan IV commander turned to his task and Sanderson turned to his civilian representatives, including the Colonel under the table. "Get your yachts out; we need shields."

"My yacht," the Colonel muttered unhappily, putting in the orders. The yachts lined up to take the next laser barrage; they had already sacrificed the repair platforms.

John paused the simulation again and the soldiers held their breath. John smirked and called in his ace; a new ship appeared on the feed, this one Sangheili. It was joined by several other purple Sangheili ships. The Arbiter's voice spoke through a message: "We have heard your distress call and are here to help."

"You may issue orders, but the Arbiter is also capable of attacking himself," John told Sanderson. The man nodded and tapped in his reply on the interface; the Arbiter's ships broke off into a Covenant attack pattern and fired their plasma weapons upon the periphery Forerunner ships that no longer had any human Marines still alive on them.

The simulation continued at a rapid pace. With the timely arrival of the Arbiter, Sanderson managed to rally his forces and destroy most of the Didact's fleet. The Spartan IVs were storming the control center of the Didact's ship and, as Sanderson had predicted, overwhelming the Forerunner by sheer numbers. They finally managed to bring him down by throwing him in the Composer beam, just as John had done, though all but fifteen died.

With the death of the Didact, the Forerunner flag ship's Composer switched off and the Spartan IVs called for heavy explosives. They rigged the ship and got out; it blew up in a pretty display of holographic fireworks. The rest of the ships fled into Slipspace, chased by the faster Sangheili ships, or disappeared in plumes of vaporized steel.

"Casualty report," Sanderson ordered the computer. It spat out the numbers; everyone winced. Humanity had lost the population of a total of ten cities, numbering close to one hundred million humans. Military deaths accounted for another seven thousand, including eighty-five Spartan IVs. They had lost three-quarters of the fleet, including the five ships with engine trouble which had acted as shields for fully-functioning ships, and the rest were at least damaged.

"If the Arbiter hadn't shown up, we'd've been toast," Sanderson muttered unhappily, turning to John. "Sir, why was our fleet so small? The current fleet is more than twice this size."

"In times of peace," John replied, "the UNSC will drop ships and stop buying new ones. They'll be deployed thinly – half of your fleet was out patrolling other planets." Sanderson nodded in understanding.

"Are there any questions?" John asked as the men and women retook their seats.

He answered questions about tactics that worked against the Forerunners – his experience was mainly limited to head-to-head battles, but he offered some suggestions about deployment as well – and other topics. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearly lunch time.

John turned off the simulator and turned to address his students. "We'll convene again in two months," he told them. "I will not be here until then, but I have left simulation games – including this one - programmed into the lab should you feel the need to practice."

"Where're you going, sir?" one of the older students asked, curiously.

"My siblings and I are going to Kalgarro," John replied. The students stirred; John grinned slightly at the puzzlement on their faces.

"If we can ask, sir, is there a problem there?"

John shook his head with a soft chuckle. "Fortunately, not one that we know of."

"Then… Why?"

"It's called a vacation, I believe," John replied, smirking slightly.

"But- oof!" The man grunted as his neighbor elbowed him hard.

"Spartans don't have vacations," another soldier blurted, apparently not taking the hint – and he had no neighbor to elbow him into silence. Several of the men and women who knew John and his siblings winced slightly as John eyed the loudmouth Marine.

"We never did," he agreed. "And this isn't _just_ a vacation as we'll be escorting several high-value people on our way. Now, would you also like to assert we don't breathe or eat, or would you like to be dismissed?"

The Marine shrank into his seat. "Dismissed, sir," he squeaked.

John nodded and dismissed the soldiers; they trotted out of the room in several groups. Sanderson, however, approached him and waited patiently for his talking fellows to leave them in peace and quiet before speaking.

"Master Chief Kadidy Sanderson," he said by way of introduction, offering his hand instead of a salute. "I've just been transferred here, specifically for your classes – my CO thinks I need some leadership training."

John nodded in understanding, shaking the man's hand. "You did very well for your first day," he told Sanderson. "Though I can't promise that I'll teach you much about traditional leadership."

Sanderson smirked. "Traditional leadership didn't help on Requiem, sir," he said, a twinkle in his eye telling John that, somehow, this Master Chief knew something about John's bout of insubordination back on Requiem.

John hummed in agreement. "What is your specialty?" he asked.

"My superiors want me to lead squads – but I want to be a Spartan IV."

John nodded. "The two aren't exclusive," he said.

"Aye, but I haven't yet been chosen. A little too small." The man was shorter than pre-augmentation IVs generally had to be; John estimated he stood at maybe 6'1". "So if I do well here, I'm hoping they'll overlook that on the next round of recruits. I'm good at hand-to-hand, too, and I have a knack for storming ships, so I'm told."

John watched the man for a moment and then nodded. "Do you have some time free?" he asked.

"When?"

"Right now."

"Sure. I was going to eat, but I had a big breakfast."

John nodded and turned, heading for the fields. Sanderson trotted to catch up. "If I may, sir, where are we going?" They broke out into the bright sunlight; John shielded his more sensitive eyes and spotted Fred walking towards the mess hall. He whistled Fred's call-tune and the Spartan turned, noting John and jogging over.

"John," he said in greeting, cheerful. He glanced at Sanderson curiously but clapped his brother – gently, though Sanderson winced at the power behind the larger man's blow that didn't rattle John – on the shoulder.

"Fred, this is Master Chief Sanderson," John said, nodded to the man. "Sanderson, LT Fred." The man struck a salute, which Fred waved away quickly. "He's the hand-to-hand expert of the Spartans." Sanderson tried to fight down the hope in his expression, but both Spartans noted it and grinned. "Fred, Sanderson's a little too short for the IV program." Fred nodded. "But he claims he's good at hand-to-hand, and he's proven himself in the classroom. Would you test him?"

"Sure thing. Come on."

Sanderson swallowed. "Now?" he asked.

"No better time than the present," Fred answered cheerfully, clapping the smaller shoulder – much more gently – on the shouler. Sanderson flinched automatically and then, when his shoulder didn't break under the Spartan's hand, relaxed a bit. "We can judge our strength better than that," Fred assured the Master Chief. "I'm rough on John because he can handle it. You won't walk away from practice sparring with more than bruises – and there is no way you can hurt us beyond a small bruise, if we let you."

John snorted. "If you ever see us spar, you'll understand," he told Sanderson, who was obviously confused.

"Did someone say spar?" Kelly asked, appearing at John's side. "I could use a spar. Who's this?"

Sanderson was starting to look overwhelmed, standing in a group with three of the four legendary Spartan IIs. Kelly offered her hand when he stammered his introduction; he shook it carefully. "Kelly-087, Rabbit," she said by way of introduction.

"We should get going," Fred said, turning only to find himself face-to-face with Linda. As the shortest Spartan joined the group, Sanderson gave up trying to hide his hero-worship.

"Where are you going?" Linda asked quietly, stepping around her brother to peer at Sanderson.

"Hand-to-hand with MC Sanderson," Fred answered, ruffling her hair. "Catch up with you later?"

"You'd better." Kelly socked her brother hard; Fred rocked away from the impact and smirked at the devastated look on Sanderson's face. "Relax," Kelly advised, noting the same concern on the Chief. "We gave up being legendary a while ago. Now scoot and then join us for lunch," she ordered Fred, slinging an arm around John's shoulders despite their size difference. "I've got some news."

"That explains the good mood," John muttered, ducking out from under his sister's arm. She growled playfully and chased him towards the mess tent; Linda and Fred rolled their eyes and then parted as well, Linda following her siblings at a slower pace.

Fred turned back to Sanderson, who was apparently trying to turn into a fish as he opened and closed his mouth. "You're not at all what I was expecting," he said as Fred raised an eyebrow.

"We're getting in touch with our more – hmm – human side," Fred explained, leading the way to the sparring ring. "I assume you know our history." Sanderson nodded. "So think of it as a second childhood."

"Yeah," Sanderson chuckled faintly. "Except you could snap regular people in two without even trying."

"Yes," Fred agreed, stepping into the ring painted on the ground. "But we won't. And, as promised, I won't injure you permanently. You'll leave here with bruises, and if you're good, so will I. Your objective is to stay inside this ring and push me out of it; I'll be doing the same to you. We'll play fair for now – no biting, punches and kicks only."

"What's unfair?" Sanderson asked as he stepped into the ring.

Fred smirked, settling into a defensive crouch. "Winning," he replied. "Ready?" He didn't give Sanderson a chance to reply but struck forward, pulling his blow. Sanderson back-pedaled frantically; Fred pulled up when he crossed the line. "You're supposed to stay inside the circle," he admonished.

"Right." Sanderson stepped back in and was more prepared when Fred came for him again. They sparred thrice, each time Fred won quickly, but Sanderson thought the Spartan was pleased.

"You're good," Fred told him as the pair walked back towards the mess hall. Sanderson was breathing hard and sweating; the Spartan didn't seem to even be taxed. Sanderson glanced at the man, hopeful; Fred grinned. "Yes, good enough that I'd like to work with you alone – and good enough that, if you do well in John's class, too, we'll put in a good word with the recruiters." A good word was as good as a guarantee; Sanderson grinned.

"Thank you, sir," he said breathlessly.

Fred nodded. "Now go eat. Keep up your training while we're gone. There's a few other hand-to-hand students of mine here who can show you the rudimentary things I've been teaching them and explain our games to you."

Sanderson saluted and trotted away, heading for the showers. Fred stepped into the mess hall, gathered his food, and found his siblings seated at their usual table. They ate alone not by necessity – they would be swarmed by soldiers wanting to hear tales from the men and women who had fought the battles if they allowed it – but by choice. They rarely ate in the common mess, too, which helped with issues of familiarity.

"How'd he perform?" John asked as Fred sat.

"I just sat down!" Fred protested. "He did well. I like him. He's got that attitude, though he can't show it around us 'cause he's stuck in hero-worship mode."

"A few weeks of knowing us should cure him of that," Kelly replied, grinning.

"What's your good news?" Fred asked his sister, biting into a piece of bread slathered in strawberry jam and peanut butter.

Kelly grinned. "Now that you're here, I can tell you all," she said. She paused to let the excitement build – though her siblings were eating with apparent non-concern. "The Rabbits are an official UNSC group now." She grinned widely as her siblings congratulated their success. "Kinda like the ODSTs," she explained. "The fastest of the Spartan IVs will make up their Rabbit squad. There will be three regular Rabbit squads for now, too – all my students. They have be naturally fast, and we work on improving their speed. There's even talk of minor enhancements to neural response time."

"That's excellent news," John mused, grinning at the happiness on Kelly's face.

They ate quickly and then headed back out of the mess hall. Several soldiers called greetings as the foursome headed for the vehicle bay. The officer there gave them the keys to one of the civilian vans, the only car the Spartans could drive comfortably, and the siblings quickly climbed into the car and Kelly drove them to the local shopping mall.

"I'm for cameras," Fred chuckled as they parked. "Linda, come with?"

"Sure," Linda agreed, extracting herself carefully from the back seat.

"We'll get the laptop, then," Kelly added, locking the van's doors and putting the keys in her pocket. "Meet in fifteen for the present shopping?"

"Sounds good." Fred and Linda headed for the mall; Kelly and John headed for a different part of the complex.

John examined the laptop – complete with both screen and holographic projector and a gesture-reader – while Kelly prowled the video game aisles curiously.

"John, look at this," she said, trotting over with a game in one hand. She held it up; it was clearly a violent game involving Spartan IIs and the Old Covenant. "I thought the UNSC trademarked the armor so this couldn't happen."

"Kelly," John sighed, "minor tweaking and those video games are perfectly legal, unfortunately."

"Not only do they glorify war and death, but they make it seem like the Covenant is still our enemy."

"You know that, and I know that. But those who play this game want the action and adventure – and sometimes, making a game out of something helps people cope with it. Now go put that back."

"I kind of want to play it," Kelly admitted, reading the back panel of the game. John eyed her. "Just to see what the makers have to say about the war."

"Well, then, by all means, get it – we'll have two weeks on the way out, maybe you can find the time to play through the game."

"We'll need the console and interface, too."

John nodded. "Then grab a cart and load up, Kelly." She grinned and trotted away; John turned back to the laptops and found one he liked. It was a deep brown color on the physical parts, shiny metal – likely aluminum – otherwise, and had everything they were looking for. He found where the non-display pieces were kept and picked one out.

John set his purchase gently in the cart Kelly came back with; she chose a matching console in deep green and four controllers, all in different colors. "Mine is blue," she told John, holding up the controller in question. "I got you brown, Linda red, and Fred orange."

"I'm fairly sure we can share, Kelly."

"Yes, but if we all want to play – it's got multiplayer – we'll need four controllers."

John held up his hands in surrender and they headed for the check-out. Thankfully, the mall was fairly quiet, though they were given a wide berth of space in the queue and were watched not-so-surreptitiously.

"Mommy, who're they?" a child behind the Spartans whispered to his mother.

"I don't know, dear, but it's impolite to stare. Do you want a candy bar for the drive home?"

"John," Kelly muttered under her breath, "you're glaring again." John consciously softened his features; she nodded.

"Thanks," John replied. He had a tendency, when out of armor and in crowds, to freeze up into an intimidating expression, as did his siblings, and they all reminded each other when necessary to drop the expression.

The mother and her child moved away, apparently having forgotten something having to do with Mommy Time, according to the six-year-old who chattered constantly.

Kelly turned to face John and asked, "What do you think Jonathan would like for the holidays?"

"Probably a miniature copy of our armor," he admitted, grinning.

"Wendy would flay you. You know she doesn't like his fascination with the military."

"I know. What about some books or toys about those ancient rodents he's so interested in?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

The young woman scanning their items listened to their conversation surreptitiously and tried not to interrupt when she asked, "Cash or credit, sir?"

"Credit," John answered, handing the woman his card.

"Thank you, sir. Just sign on the pad when it tells you." John nodded and picked up the small stylus. He signed quickly and the woman handed his card back.

The pair dropped their purchases off in the van and waited for Linda and Fred. Those two weren't two minutes behind the first pair; they put the camera in the car and went back into the mall. They ignored the stares and whispers – and sometimes not whispers – as they headed for the local toy shop.

"Alright, we were thinking toys and books about ancient rodents for Jonathan," Kelly told their siblings as they walked into the toy shop.

"Lucy hinted that she'd love some model airplanes for her room – and I think she's old enough for a pocket knife if her parents agree," Linda added.

Fred chimed in. "Kade would love a new backpack, I know, and I was thinking of adding a few more books to his collection, but I don't know what he doesn't have."

"You should check with Wendy before getting a pocket knife for Lucy," John told Linda. "And what about a gift card for Kade?"

"That's what we were thinking," Fred agreed. "I was thinking online retailer, but Linda was arguing for a physical store so we could take him if he wanted."

"I like Linda's idea better," Kelly said, plucking a stuffed toy from a shelf and examining it with a small grin.

"So do I," John chuckled. "That's a good one," he added to Kelly, picking up its twin.

"I'm overruled," Fred laughed. "Alright, then, physical store it is. What about this?"

The foursome enjoyed spending almost half an hour comparing stuffed toys – Linda liked the dogs and made them "bite" Fred's snakes, while Kelly and John kept to the smaller animals and looked for rodents that would match Jonathan's favorite critters.

Kelly also found a white stuffed tiger, which she engraved a name tag for that said "Shelby" and put in the basket Linda was carrying. The four decided on two other stuffed animals – a mid-sized wombat complete with cubical "poop" and an up-scaled white-and-black rat. The pair came with nametags, but the Spartans agreed to leave them blank so Jonathan could name his new stuffed pets.

They next found a few colorful – and informational – books for Jonathan. Kelly read through each one while Linda and Fred perused the aisle for books that Lucy might enjoy. They stacked those in Fred's basket and then Linda found a pocket knife for Lucy. If Wendy didn't want her to have it, they could keep it for when she was older.

Finding model airplanes was easier; they stacked up four of them, of various difficulty levels that Lucy would still be able to enjoy. They found Kade a sturdy backpack and one of the toy shop employees told them they could get his name imprinted in thread, which took an hour.

Linda spent the time building with the connectable blocks that were set out to play with while Fred teasingly stole her blocks and hid them. Kelly and John, meanwhile, chuckled as they watched – and kept score.


	11. Teenagers at the Mall

_Please do review! I love reading your thoughts. And without further ado, here's the next installment. _

**Chapter 11: Teenagers at the Mall**

Fred ended up winning when the hour was up and they took the backpack with the rest of their purchases to the front, where they got into line behind a pair of teenagers. They were a pair of adolescent males, one with bright red hair and the other, in the lead, with black hair streaked with red highlights. They were dressed shabbily with their pants riding low enough that the Spartans – and everyone else - could see their checkered boxers quite clearly. They wore their hats indoors, too, and something about the way they eyeballed several of the young women walking into the store or by the glass front told John that they could cause trouble.

The two teenagers set down their own purchases on the belt – a replica UNSC battle rifle, heavily modified, several boxes of paintballs, and body armor for each of them. The young lady – likely no more than twenty– noted their intended purchase and asked with a bright smile, "Looks like you're planning on some fun. I'll need to see some ID to purchase the paintball gear, though."

"We're over eighteen," the lead boy scoffed. "You don't need my ID."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I do," the young woman insisted, still smiling.

"I don't have it with me. You'll just have to take my word." The first boy spoke with a lazy drawl while the second couldn't seem to stop twitching.

"Well, perhaps you can go get it. I can hold-"

"No, bitch!" the second interrupted at the top of his lungs. The woman started backwards as the angry red-head raised a fist threateningly. "Just sell us the fucking stuff!"

John, being closest, grabbed the boy's fist and forced his arm down before the teenager could do anything. With the cramped aisle between the conveyor belt and stands of candy and small toys hemming them in, John's siblings couldn't get involved, but Fred, at the back, quickly headed around the next aisle and blocked the first boy from bolting.

"Hey, fuck off!" the red-head yelled, trying to struggle free. Without releasing the teenager, John put his basket down and secured the kid's other hand, bringing both behind the boy's back and pulling down until the teenager had to surrender or risk dislocating his shoulders.

John and Fred moved the two teenagers out of the cramped aisle despite their shrieked protests. People were staring at the commotion as the Spartan males waited calmly for their captives to quiet down.

An overweight security guard scootered into the store on a personal mobility device; he turned an angry red when he saw the two teenagers and stomped over, hitching up his belt. "Well, well, well, that's three times today I've been called over for a disturbance by you two!" he told the boys.

John and Fred released their prisoners but stood between them and the exit. The black-haired teenager glared defiantly at the guard when he was released; the red-haired one, however, reached for his back. Both John and Fred felt that niggling instinct that told them to act, so act they did – John went for the red-head while Fred took the black-haired kid out.

One knee on the red-head's back, John quickly pulled the kid's target from the back of his pants – a standard-issue police pistol. At the sight of it, the guard turned white, as did the cashier and an older woman with "Owner" written on her shirt who had come running up at the commotion. John calmly removed the magazine, ejected the casing – the idiot had had it loaded in his pants – and handed the gun to Kelly. She stripped it ruthlessly within five seconds, damaging key components beyond repair.

"Crappy build, but it's got police-grade ammo," Linda muttered, picking up the magazine and examining it. "Makes me wonder where a piece of shit like him got it."

The red head struggled to breathe and John eased up just enough for him to fill his lungs before pressing back down. "Do tell," he growled at the boy.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, what _are_ you?! I have rights! Get off me!"

"We're Spartans, kid," Fred told him angrily, heaving the black-haired teenager to his feet and thoroughly patting him down. "Now answer the LT's question."

"Number's been sanded off," Kelly commented. "But there are initials – J. P. I think I'll find the local police force and see who's gun's gone missing recently. Guard, I suppose you have protocols for this?"

"I'm J.P., you stupid bitch!" the red-head screamed angrily before the stammering guard could speak. "Gimme back my gun, dyke!"

John pressed down again and the teenager wheezed. The black-haired kid glared sullenly at them all, crossing his arms. Fred relieved the guard of his handcuffs and snapped them around the kid's wrists quickly, tossing a pair of zip-ties to John as well. John quickly bound his captive's hands behind the boy's back and hauled him to his feet, not particularly gentle about it.

"You'll pay for this, you fuckers!" the red-head yelled, struggling against the zip-ties. "That's my gun, give it back! I'll sue you all!"

"Look, _kid_. You're going to jail, you're not getting this back – and it wouldn't work anyway, I've seen to that – and you _can't_ sue us for defense. Shut up before John puts you out," Kelly hissed.

"Fuckin' cow! Rabid bitch!" The boy was practically foaming at the mouth; the four Spartans – and several others in the store and within hearing range - stared at him.

Linda shook her head and grabbed Kelly's shoulder as the other woman made for the loudmouth boy. "It's not worth it," she muttered lowly.

"Yeah, Tiny Tits, tell your fuckin' fag to back off!"

Both Kelly and Linda growled angrily and John, for the boy's own safety, slapped a hand over the teenager's mouth. After a few muffled screams of anger, the boy tried biting him; John grimaced in disgust and turned to the bodyguard.

"You've called the police, I assume?" he asked quietly.

"Uh… No… Didn't… Have time… Do that now… Yeah." The man walked slowly back towards his cart, looking back at the four Spartans fearfully, and radioed into his commander. Within moments – with the red-head still doing his best to chew through John's hand with no luck – five more white-uniformed guards showed up.

"We'll take it from here, folks," the leader said, glaring at the Spartans, the first security guard, and finally at the boys. John released the red-head and Kelly silently handed him a towel from the cashier's station to wipe his hand off with. The boy had left teeth marks after all.

"You fuckers are insane!" the teenager screamed angrily as another security guard grabbed the boy's shoulder and led towards the exit. The black-haired teen was similarly led but he was silently sullen. The first security guard gathered up the piece of the dismantled gun, Linda handed him the magazine, and then he scuttled after his friends.

"Now, look, you four," the head security guard snarled at John and his siblings, "I don't need any more disturbances today!"

John raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Sir, did you miss the pistol? The red-head was armed and threatened the cashier."

"Bullshit. I know you Spartans – you're programmed to make messes wherever you go. Get the hell out of my mall!"

"It's true!" the cashier piped up as the four Spartans traded glances. They turned to her; she was white and shaking, but absolutely adamant. The owner, standing behind her, looked worried and confused. "They – the boys, that is – were trying to buy paintball gear, Mrs. Vickers." The cashier turned to the owner to explain. "I asked for ID and the red-haired one just went ballistic. He was going to hit me, I know it! But they," she nodded to John and his siblings, "intervened and saved me. And then the red-head went for a gun-"

"Or one of you planted it on him," the guard, Mr. Vickers, growled. "You're going to need to come with me."

"Sir, no, we don't. We aren't pressing charges. But if you would like to, ladies," John said, turning to the cashier and owner both, "we will be more than happy to provide witness accounts. As you may know," he turned back to the guard, "Spartan memory recall is nearly perfect even in battle and admissible in a legal court as full physical evidence – as are the bite marks on my hand. Further, we were acting in defense of others, which is not only our duty as soldiers and Spartans but also a standing order. So if you would like to take issue with our actions today, I suggest you call NavSpecWep and ask for Rear Admiral Jacobsen. I'm sure he'd tell you _exactly_ what you can expect if you try to charge us with – well, anything."

The guard turned increasingly red in anger as John spoke. "You're coming with me if I have to handcuff you!" he said furiously.

"Sir, threatening a Spartan is not a wise way to end your career," John said lowly, frowning. "Not to mention, you don't have handcuffs we can't break."

"You-"

"What in the hell is going on here?!" The voice was authoritative, angry, and female; John glanced over to see a middle-aged woman dressed in the deep blues of police uniform advancing on the group. "I just got some dumbass calling in a robbery by a group of _Spartans_?"

Kelly, Linda, Fred, and John simultaneously palmed their faces, which would have been comical if not for the situation. The owner, despite herself, giggled and quickly covered her mouth.

"Robbing us?!" the cashier shrieked, shaking her head at the idiocy in front of her. "Ma'am, they were _saving_ us from being robbed!" She quickly explained what had happened. The woman in blue grunted.

"Well, that makes a hell of a lot more sense than some crackpot tell me _Spartans_ were robbin' the joint. What're you still doing here?" she snapped at the security guard. "Get back on your duties; I've got this."

"Ma'am-"

"It's Sergeant McKenzie, guard, and I said _I've got this_." She glared until the man huffed angrily and left, muttering to himself all the while and glaring over his shoulder. McKenzie turned to the four Spartans, who eyed her warily. They had had more than enough of pushy authority figures today.

"Sorry about that," she said, smiling and offering her hand. "One of you's Kelly - I'm guessing not you." She grinned at John, who shook her hand carefully. "My hubby's on your base," she said by way of explanation. Kelly nodded and shook the woman's hand next.

"McKenzie – good guy. He's mentioned you a couple times."

"Now I know why it was in a whisper," Fred chuckled, shaking the woman's hand as well.

"Wish we'd met under better circumstances," Linda added quietly as she shook McKenzie's hand.

The woman grinned saucily. "Aye, I'm not scared o' throwin' my weight 'round, that's how I got here in the first place. Now, I see yer shoppin', so let's make this quick so's I can get back to my donuts." She slapped her ample – yet not overweight – belly. "I'll need names, contact info, and your statements, one at a time."

The woman's friendly but business-like briskness relaxed the four Spartans; Kelly went back to the cashier and calmed the young woman down with the help of the owner as John, Fred, and Linda gave their – very short – statements. McKenzie took pictures of the bite marks on John's hand, just in case the boys did try to spin the story their way. With Kelly's support, the cashier also gave the story from her point of view, and then Kelly gave her own statement – mostly involving the gun's make, model, and sanded-off ID number – and the Sergeant tipped her hat to all of them, promising to return for the security footage.

"That was really brave," the cashier – her name was Julie, she'd told Kelly – gushed when the four finally got back to their dropped baskets and loaded them onto the conveyor.

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah," he disagreed. "What any good citizen would do."

"No," Julie argued. "Most would have just pretended it wasn't happening. 'Specially after that red-head started getting so angry. Bet he was on drugs."

All four Spartans frowned. It went against their very nature to allow that to happen anywhere near them; how could someone ignore it, even – by ignoring it – encourage such behavior? "Are you going to be okay?" Kelly asked the cashier.

"Oh, yeah," she said, nodding bravely. "Not the first time I've been harassed, but it did have the happiest ending." She smiled shyly at Fred, who grinned easily back – though Linda's eyes narrowed and Kelly nudged her sister warningly.

"Do you have a notepad?" John asked. The cashier nodded and handed him a small pad of paper and a pen; John quickly jotted down the base number and then his cell number. It was Linda's turn to nudge Kelly. "If you need our statements again, give us a call." He handed the notepad back to the cashier, who took it reverently.

"Thank you," she said again, folding the note carefully into her pocket and shooting Fred another shy smile. The Spartan missed it, however, as he was bagging their purchases. John quickly swiped his card through the machine – the cashier gave them a hefty discount and wished she could do more, though they assured her that it wasn't necessary – and they headed out.

"Okay, I'm done," Kelly growled when they were safely out of earshot of anyone in the parking lot. "Let's go home. Screw malls. I'm never coming back." Linda nodded in agreement. The two males could tell that the red-head had hurt both of their sisters with the cursing, especially the comment about Linda's chest. She was, despite their lack of attachment to physical beauty, somewhat unhappy that _that_ had been the thing the boy had picked on.

Kelly and John climbed into the front seats with John driving – he didn't want Kelly's anger translating into her driving – after they loaded up the back. Fred and Linda crawled into the back bench seats and buckled in; then Fred slung an arm around Linda's shoulders and murmured quietly into her ear, comforting her.

"How's your hand?" Kelly asked John when they'd gotten out of the parking lot. He held it up; just a few angry red marks left.

"Not bad," he replied, shrugging. Kelly grunted and crossed her arms, glaring daggers through the windshield. "How're you holding up?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound like it."

"We'll talk about it later. I just want to get home – and beat on something."

John nodded in understanding. The rest of the drive was quiet as they headed for the base; once there, Kelly sent Linda and Fred inside – supposedly to make lunch but in reality so they could have a few minutes alone – while she and John unpacked the car, stacking their purchases on the porch.

Then they took the van back to the garage, checked it back in, and walked slowly back towards the house in companionable but brooding silence. By the time they got to the house, Linda and Fred had taken the bags inside and started on a late dinner.

Kelly and John unpacked the items and separated them into piles – Jonathan's, Lucy's, Kade's, and the Spartans' stuff – and then also unpacked the wrapping paper, scissors, tape, and To/From stickers Fred and Linda had also picked up with the camera.

The four ate dinner; Linda was back in a good mood and together, the three managed to bring Kelly out of her funk at least enough so that when they gathered in the living room to wrap the presents, she stole the remote from John and put on a comedic television show instead of the news.

Linda had chosen four different types of wrapping paper; she and Kelly cut pieces to fit the presents while John wrapped them carefully and Fred addressed each one to its intended recipient. Working together, it hardly took an hour to get everything bundled up nicely; then they packed the gifts into a large rolling suitcase, putting the more fragile model plane kits on the inside and the stuffed animals along the outside to pad the interior.

"For our second rodeo, not bad," Kelly remarked as she zipped up the bag.

"Definitely better than last time," Fred chuckled.

Kelly coughed in agreement and embarrassment. "Let's just pretend that never happened," she suggested.

"Wish I could," Linda grumbled, fingering her hair.

"Let's head to bed. We've got an early morning – and a big day – tomorrow," John suggested, standing. His siblings nodded. Before they disappeared into their rooms, however, they did bring their duffels down into the living room, observing the pile of luggage for a moment.

"Either we pack light or we're forgetting things," Fred said, looking at the suitcase filled with presents for the children – and a few for Terry and Wendy – dwarfing the Spartan's four duffels.

"Well, we don't carry around hair dryers, makeup bags, thirty pairs of shoes, or different sets of clothing for every hour of the day," Linda pointed out, grinning.

John nodded in agreement. "We should probably bring something to keep ourselves occupied on the ride," he suggested. "Terry's yacht doesn't have cryosleep – not that he'd let us get frozen – and the kids will be continuing their studies en route, so we'll have to find some way to entertain ourselves. And not with constant sparring," he added when Kelly scoffed.

"Alright," Fred agreed. "I'll bring my tablet." He trotted back upstairs.

"Grab ours, too!" Linda yelled after him. "And bring that crossword puzzle I'm working on."

"Yes, ma'am," Fred chuckled from upstairs.

"Crossword puzzle?" Kelly asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a fun mind game. You have to attach words to clues and then write them in."

"I know what it is. I didn't think you liked them. I always pictured you as more of a, hm, Sudoku person."

"Those are fun, too, but I like learning new words. Speaking of which…" She turned back upstairs. "And don't forget my dictionary!" she called to Fred.

"I got it," Fred called back. He came down with the Spartans' four tablets and Linda's physical books – she preferred feeling paper when she worked on something like a crossword, apparently – in his arms. They packed the tablets in with the presents, to cushion them.

"And the last surprise of the night," Kelly announced, pulling out the gaming system she'd hid while they were wrapping presents, "is this." She tossed the game to Linda, who read the description with a raised eyebrow.

"Seriously? Video games? What are you, twelve?" Linda chuckled.

"I think it'll be fun," Kelly replied, packing the game system in her duffle. She commandeered part of John's duffle for the controllers. "Besides, you don't have to play if you don't want to."

"No, I think I will. If they have a decent sniper rifle, at least."

"First person shooter?" Fred asked, reading the game's description over Linda's shoulder. "I'm fairly sure we've starred in most of the places this game goes through."

"Yep," Kelly replied. "I want to see how they portray things like the Halo world – that's the first map you get, apparently. There's Requiem, too."

John frowned slightly. He didn't particularly want to revisit that planet, game-world or not. Linda shot him an understanding glance and tossed Kelly the game. "Maybe we should check it out," she allowed, "but only if I get _really_ bored."

"You're going to get bored," Kelly promised. "Two weeks, no training or sparring outside of each other? I'm going to sick of listening to John snore inside of three days."

"I don't snore," John retorted.

"Alright, fine. You whistle."

"I do not."

"You do," Fred, Linda, and Kelly all replied simultaneously.

"You whistle and it's adorable," Kelly continued, smirking at John. The large man was feeling a little defensive. He grumbled.

"Time for bed," Linda suggested, already heading upstairs. Fred followed her quickly. Kelly double-checked her packing job and then followed John to their room.

"Excited?" Kelly asked as John closed the door and she turned on a small lamp by her cot so he could turn off the overhead room lights.

John hummed in agreement and stripped of his shirt and pants quickly. Kelly tossed her shirt and pants to him as well; he dropped all of their clothing into the dirty laundry hamper. They slipped into their cots and, as had become their usual sleeping arrangement, Kelly turned her back on John and he pulled her close so that her back was against his chest.

"Did you tell Terry we sleep like this?" Kelly suddenly asked as John adjusted his position so he wasn't breathing in her hair.

"What?" he asked, blinking his eyes open.

"In pairs," Kelly clarified. "He's not quite caught on – no one has. And everyone's used to us sleeping four to a room." She rolled over to face him.

"No," John admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I'll mention it when we get there in the morning. It's a yacht – there's room enough for each of us to have our own room if we really wanted to."

Kelly smirked. "Better you than me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked suspiciously.

"Wendy keeps dropping hints at Linda and I that it's time to "get a move on with life" and that you and Fred are "such handsome fellows" and she's been wanting to be an aunt for years." There was long-standing suffering in Kelly's voice.

"Poor Kelly," John snickered.

"Yeah, well." Kelly smacked him gently. "So don't be surprised if Wendy makes Terry accost you – and Fred – when she finds out we've paired off."

"Why?"

"John, you're adorable. Go to sleep."

"Wait, Kelly-" Kelly rolled over and wiggled into a more comfortable position. John knew the conversation was over and sighed, wrapping an arm around Kelly's torso. He inhaled to tell her good night and had to spit out a mouthful of her blue hair with a grimace.

"Quit eating my hair."

"I'm not trying to." John moved until his chin was resting on the top of Kelly's head. "Better?" he asked.

"Much. Good night."

John returned the sentiment and the pair fell asleep quickly.

_~~HALO~~_

The alarm buzzed, waking Kelly and John instantly. Kelly shifted and John pulled her closer. "We have five minutes," he muttered, unwilling to get up just yet.

"Yeah, but I kind of want to shower," Kelly replied, trying to pull away. John simply tightened his grip around her midsection, pulling her more firmly into his chest. "John," she chuckled in protest, wiggling in her attempt to get away.

"Shhhh," John growled. "I'll use you as a pillow if you keep struggling."

Kelly sighed. There was no arguing with Morning John; he had made good on his threats in the past. So she simply used her dirtiest trick, wiggling just so against him. John growled again, his voice dropping a few notes and growing husky, but, unwilling to start _that_ again, he lifted his arm to release her.

"You fight dirty," John muttered, rolling – carefully – onto his stomach.

"I fight smart. Just 'cause you can't keep it in your pants…" Kelly grinned and dodged the pillow thrown her way.

"I do keep it in my pants," John retorted, giving up his battle for a few extra minutes of sleep with a heavy sigh.

"That's kind of the problem," Kelly replied, her voice light but hiding – poorly – a hint of exasperation and annoyance under it.

"Kelly…" John didn't want to go into this now. He knew Fred and Linda had started exploring deeper intimacy, but he just wasn't ready for that. _And you're scared to do it, admit it_, John thought to himself. His previous good mood was ruined; he got out of bed and ignored Kelly's knowing glance.

"You two up?" Fred asked, knocking on the door.

"We're up," Kelly called back. "Get the Pelican warmed up, would you?"

"Linda's already out there."

"My hero." Kelly chuckled, pulling on fresh underwear and then quickly dressing. "Breakfast?"

"Do we have to do everything for you?" Fred retorting, his footsteps walking away.

Kelly muttered something that John couldn't quite make out as he similarly dressed. He led the way downstairs and into the kitchen, where Fred was sitting at the table with a plate of eggs and bacon. Kelly scowled impressively at him.

"There's more on the stove," Fred told her, grinning. "_We_ got up before the alarm so we could get warm food."

"Prick." Kelly headed for the stove and served herself up a plate. John copied her and they sat with Fred at the table to eat. Linda appeared half-way through the meal, serving herself and sitting down with them.

"Pelican's warming up," she said. "It's cold out there."

"We can take the stuff in one trip," John replied, standing to wash his dirty plate and fork. "Who's got the house key?"

"I do," Fred replied, holding up a brightly-colored lanyard with the key on the end. "I'll lock up once we're out. Anyone forget anything?"

"John left his good mood in bed," Kelly joked, smirking at the Spartan.

John simply growled – playfully – at her and accepted Fred's dirty plate and spoon. The Spartan always ate eggs with a spoon, which perplexed his siblings to no end. Linda and Kelly finished quickly and John took their dishes as well. Once they were clean, he set them in the rack to dry and then dried his hands off before joining his siblings in the living room.

Kelly tossed him his shoes and he slipped them on quickly. "I'll get the duffels," Kelly offered, picking up her duffle and slinging it across her shoulder. Then she grabbed John's, being gentle with both of them, and Fred's. Linda took her own with a chuckle. John carried the large suitcase and Fred grabbed their jackets from pegs in the entryway. They gathered outside the front door, which Fred locked quickly.

"Back door's locked?" John asked.

"Locked it on my way out," Linda replied, grinning. Their breath steamed in the frozen morning air. "Let's get into the Pelican before my unmentionables freeze off."

"Wouldn't want that," Fred laughed, offering Linda her coat. She handed him her duffle bag and slipped into her coat with a grin. Fred carried her duffle and the four Spartans headed for the air field.

The Pelican was, indeed, warmed up by the time they got into the cargo bay. John quickly secured the suitcase while Kelly did the same with the four duffle bags. Linda climbed into the cockpit and Fred closed the hatch. They radioed in for clearance and were off.

"If you left something behind," Linda said over the radio cheerfully as the Pelican turned in an easy curve, "it's left behind."

Fred chuckled. "We're used to traveling with nothing," he reminded her.

"Well, yes." They had already sent the armor ahead; it had been packed into the yacht's cargo bay yesterday, along with their repair kits.

"I call shotgun when we get there," Kelly suddenly said over the radio.

"What is shotgun in a ship?" Fred asked, grinning at his sister.

"I dunno. But I call it."

"You're just a child."

"And proud of it."

John leaned against the bulkhead, turning over Kelly's words in his mind from the morning and listening sporadically to Fred and Kelly's playful bickering. He knew Kelly was being more than patient with him, considering how they'd been "together" for almost three months now and had yet to do anything different except the way they slept.

He'd seen Fred and Linda trade small, gentle kisses while in the privacy of their shared home; he knew they did more during the night. Fred wasn't the type to kiss and tell, but Linda was getting fed up with John's reluctance to move forward and, John knew, had sent Fred to talk to him about furthering his relationship with Kelly several times. Sometimes John managed to avoid the discussions. When he was cornered by his well-meaning brother, he agreed to try harder to change, but the truth was, he didn't want to change.

John knew that was Linda and Fred shared was special, just as what he shared with Kelly was special, albeit in a different way. Linda and Fred had a more "usual" relationship, intimate physically and emotionally. John just hoped they were being smart about it; he wasn't sure either one was ready to be a parent, if Spartans could procreate. Their augmentations had included libido suppression, but had more been done to them to ensure they were focused solely on being soldiers? Since Kelly and Linda both suffered through monthly menstruation cycles, he supposed they were probably fertile – but what about him and Fred? It was much easier to unload a gun than to put bullet-proof vests on, after all.

These weren't the kind of thoughts John liked having. He was a simple soldier, or so he liked to think. Kids, families, relationship issues – those were things that he didn't see himself having. He and Kelly had their differences, but they'd been best friends for their whole lives, and he knew Kelly inside and out, just as she knew him. If their relationship turned intimate, it would be secondary to their friendship.

Kelly watched John covertly. He was thinking hard; she could recognize the look on his face, the set of his shoulders. Fred had noted the slight tension between the pair, but was, true to form, ignoring it politely, and she was grateful to him for that. Linda's suggestions – and rants – were well-meant, but Kelly didn't want to push John. John never liked being pushed; he'd set his feet and they'd get nowhere. So gentle – and no-so-gentle – hints were all Kelly let herself make.

Sometimes, Kelly wanted to lock John in a room until he admitted that he was holding himself – and her – back, at least romantically. She didn't want to be swept off her feet outside of a sparring session. But sometimes, she had to admit to herself, she wished that John could take the lead in the relationship. He was the leader in everything else; they all looked to him for decisions that affected them all. But he shied away from making decisions for himself, at least when it came to arenas outside of tactics and soldiering.

Kelly frowned slightly, watching John out of the corner of her eye as she traded quips with Fred. Her mind wasn't really on what her brother was saying, though, and she was losing the verbal spar.

Fred glanced between John and Kelly as he waited for Kelly's retort to his latest playful insult. John was set in his thinking mode, eyes turned inwards. He wouldn't budge from it until he'd come to some sort of conclusion. Kelly, on the other hand, was nearly vibrating with stress and tension, and Fred knew something had happened either last night or this morning to make the paired Spartans snappish.

Fred fancied himself a simple man. Spartan, super-soldier, yes, but still fairly simple; feed him, give him someone to teach – or kill – and he was content. His relationship with Linda was a nice bonus, but both of them were down-to-earth types. They explored because they were curious as to what they had missed out on, being raised since six to become humanity's best warriors. They had deep, meaningful conversations, sometimes about nothing more important than movies they'd seen together. They usually stayed up at least an hour after they had disappeared into their room, talking or just cuddling. Fred would never get tired of cuddling.

Nothing had really changed since they started acknowledging a deeper bond between them. They trained together and with their siblings; they taught soldiers on the base and wherever they were called. No one outside of the foursome knew they had paired off because they were so low-key about it. Linda liked being kissed – but not in public. Neither did Fred, for that matter. The only thing that changed was kept behind closed doors.

But once John and Kelly had mutually agreed to pursue a relationship, something had changed between them. Kelly was trying desperately not to scare John off the trail, and John was acting like a skittish deer, shying forward and back. Fred almost suspected that his brother just wasn't interested, but cautious questions revealed that John wasn't holding out because he was homosexual. He was interested in Kelly; Fred was sharp-eyed enough to see the way John's eyes followed Kelly or how his pupils were dilated after a sparring match between the pair.

Sometimes they made great progress, like when John had curled up with Kelly on the couch and fallen asleep there. Other times, like this morning, he seemed to take three steps back for every one forward, dropping back behind the protective cover of their emotional conditioning. It frustrated Linda to no end.

Fred just wished John would give up his control for a single evening and let Kelly take over. If he didn't like it, Kelly would never force him to do anything. But the only way that would happen would be if John either was knocked out, drunk, or stupid with meds. Fred had seen John truly drugged up once, and never wanted to again; the big man turned into a skittish, timid creature.

But drunk… Fred was fairly sure he could get John a little tipsy. Spartan metabolisms would ensure John wouldn't get into real trouble, but just a little barrier removal would be good for him. This was a vacation, after all, and one thing the Spartans hadn't done was tried the various alcoholic beverages that Wendy and Terry enjoyed in moderation.

Fred made a pact with himself to see if Terry planned to have wine – or better yet, flavored spirits – at the holiday party. John disliked being out of control – in fact, Fred would have said he had a phobia of it – but Fred would make sure John tried at least one drink. Worst case scenario, he wouldn't like it and they'd be right back where they started. But if he did like it, he might let down some of those strict inhibitions that were straining his relationship with Kelly. And from there, it would be up to the pair to figure out how to proceed.


End file.
